


The Replenishment Decree

by AlextoyourOlivia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M, Gen, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, M/M, Rebellion, Ron Weasley Being an Idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 134,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlextoyourOlivia/pseuds/AlextoyourOlivia
Summary: When the Ministry of Magic announces the Replenishment Decree, everyone must decide for themselves whether or not to agree. But what happens if you refuse to marry the person to whom you're assigned?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 625
Kudos: 841





	1. An Arrangement

It wasn’t typical for Harry Potter, war hero, to begin his day by spitting coffee across his breakfast table but that’s exactly what happened on the first of September when he sat down to read the morning paper. Following the routine that had become one of his favorite parts of the day in the months since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry awoke early to enjoy the quiet before his best friend - and roommate - got up to join him. He checked for any overnight owlpost deliveries, collected The Daily Prophet from the doorstep while noting the absence of The Quibbler, and poured himself a nice, hot cuppa.  
When he unrolled the Prophet, the front page article was such a shock his mouthful of coffee sprayed across it - and the table - before he could stop his sputtering!  
The headline read “Replenishment Decree” and was followed by the question “A Ministry Euphemism for Arranged Marriage or An Effort to Save Britain’s Wizarding Population?”  
He read the article quickly grasping that the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had somehow gotten a Decree passed that allowed them to execute a Marriage Law. Witches and Wizards who were of legal age and had finished their schooling would be made to marry within the year. Not even the next twelve months but before the New Year! Towards the end of the article, Harry saw they had listed some of the selected pairs and his own name was in the paper, along with Ron and Hermione. He was going to be made to marry Padma Patil. He just could NOT wrap his head around that. He was now engaged to Padma. A lovely young woman, certainly, but not one who he had ever thought of marrying! Ron and Hermione were assigned to one another, with an anonymous quote that they “had been seen snogging during the Battle of Hogwarts so it was thoughtful of the Ministry to allow them to stay together.” When he finished with the Prophet’s article he reached for the Quibbler where he knew he would find the real background on the latest Decree. Only then he remembered there had been no Quibbler on the stoop that morning and he now had his suspicions as to why. Though the war had ended, it was taking longer than expected to rout out all of Voldemort’s supporters and the leftovers had been occasionally successful in disrupting both the Quibbler and the Ministry’s attempts to find them.  
Just then, he heard footfalls coming down the stairs. This isn’t going to go well.  
“Seen The Prophet today, Hermione?” Harry asked gently. He knew she hadn’t. If Hermione had already seen the front page article, no doubt they’d have heard her shouting about it all the way to Diagon Alley.  
“No...why? Is it Skeeter? What has that woman written about us now?” She hummed quietly when Harry shook his head. “The Ministry then. What have they done this time? Fools, the lot of them.” She reached out, expecting Harry to drop the newspaper in her hand. When he didn’t, Hermione grew more serious. “Okay, Harry, you’re making me nervous. What is it?”  
He took a deep breath before reminding Hermione that they’d been expecting something like this Decree from the Ministry of Magic for a few weeks. That they knew with the amount of deaths from the war there would be holdovers who tried to fall back on old-fashioned and antiquated customs.  
“Merlin’s pants, Harry, just tell me already!”  
He silently stood from their shared breakfast table and handed her The Daily Prophet on his way to rinse his cup out in the sink.  
“What the bloody hell is this?!” She shouted as she read the headline. Skimming the article, Hermione kept up with a nearly constant stream of comments, “like hell...you’ll assign me a husband over my dead body...elder members of the Wizengamot, my ass, just call them ancient toads...No! No, no, no, no, no! They can not force me to marry him! This can’t be legal! Harry! Get dressed! We’re going to the Ministry! Now!”

Harry knew better than to argue with Hermione when she was shouting like that so he went right upstairs and got ready to leave as quickly as he could. Just minutes later, waiting for Hermione by the front door, Harry wondered what the plan really was. Hermione was a planner, she didn’t usually rush into a confrontation without thinking through every angle first. Just as she started coming down the stairs to leave, there was a knock on the door followed by the handle turning immediately. Out of instinct, Harry stepped back and raised his wand.  
“Oi, mate! It’s just me,” Ron said, raising his hands defensively.  
“Ron, how many times have we told you not to just walk right in? We only finished fighting a war a few months ago; that isn’t safe,” Harry explained.  
“Harry, just hex him next time, maybe he’ll learn his lesson!”  
“Hey! It’s me, though! You’re both welcome to walk right in the Burrow without ringing the bell.”  
Rolling her eyes, Hermione answered, “Yes, Ron, but you have perimeter warnings round the Burrow and we live in Muggle London. You. Can’t. Just. Walk. In. Next time, we hex you.”  
“Hex me! And here I came over to celebrate our engagement! That’s just mean, Hermione.” Ron smiled and reached to put his arm around her.  
Standing behind Hermione, Harry shook his head at Ron, trying to silently tell him to be quiet.  
“Engagement? Engagement! We are not engaged!”  
Ron pulled a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet out of his back pocket and opened it to the section of the article that listed them as betrothed. “According to The Prophet we are!”  
“Yes, Ronald, and last week The Prophet printed an article claiming that I was pregnant with Harry’s child. Clearly stellar reporting from that lot.”  
“Yeah, but, c’mon, ‘Mione, this time it could be true. We make a great couple, Mum says it every day.”  
Mouth gaping open as her face reddened, Hermione couldn’t even formulate a response. Harry stepped in, “Uh, Ron, mate, listen, Hermione and I...well, we don’t agree with this marriage thing from the Ministry. We were on our way there to dispute it, actually.”  
Insulted, Ron crossed his arms and asked, “Dispute it? As in tell the Ministry of Magic that you just won’t follow a law?”  
“That’s right,” Hermione said as she stepped passed Ron toward the door, “I won’t. Nor should you. Ron, we’ve been friends for years but we’re not a couple. No one should be making us get married. And there is no way in hell that I’m going to stand by and let some hundred and fifty year old man tell me I have to get pregnant, thank you very much.”  
Harry gently led Ron into the kitchen while subtly waving Hermione out the door.  
“Harry, I just don’t understand any of this. I helped win the war. I’m part of the Golden Trio, too. I was a prefect and I made the Gryffindor Quidditch team! Why wouldn’t Hermione want to marry me? I’m a pure-blood from a proper family! I mean, isn’t that why you want to marry my sister?”  
Having heard Ron’s last statement, Hermione couldn’t simply leave and she stomped her way into the kitchen behind the other two. Whipping up her sleeve, Hermione displayed the ugly, red, cursed scar on her arm in front of Ron’s face. “Yes, Ron, you’re a pure-blood. Isn’t that brilliant? And me? I’m just a filthy, little mudblood right? I should be blessed that the Ministry was so gracious as to place me into your family. It’s not going to happen. I’ll never marry you. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”  
“Oh, yeah? Well the Ministry says you are, so there! I’ll see you at the Burrow tonight to start planning the wedding with my mum. She wants to do it right away to show the rest of the country that the Replenishment Decree is a brilliant plan.”  
“Over. My. Dead. Body!” With that, Hermione left. She was so furious, though, that she couldn’t even use Apparition and had to resort to their secret portkey in the alley. Hermione barely took a moment to safely land behind the Notice-me-Not enchantment line near the Ministry call booth and instead slammed the door open and quickly forced it shut behind herself.  
Picking up the phone, she again barely waited before blurting out, “This is Hermione Granger and I am here to see whomever is taking charge or credit of this latest Decree.”  
The voice on the phone answered, “Please report to the security check station before proceeding to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Thank you. Have a nice day.”  
The phone box spit out her visitor’s badge reading, “Hermione Granger, Replenishment Decree” before beginning her descent into the Ministry atrium. Mumbling to herself the whole way down, Hermione didn’t even realize she was about to run headlong into someone else who was also headed to the Security desk.  
“Goodness, Hermione! Look where you’re going!”  
Finally standing still, Hermione realized she had just about flattened Andromeda Tonks. “Sorry, Andy, just distracted by this Decree nonsense.”  
“It’s utterly ridiculous! That’s why I’m here. To go to the DMLE and see if I can’t talk some sense into someone.”  
“Have you been assigned someone?” Hermione asked, reaching out to grasp Andy’s forearm.  
“I don’t think so, yet. They’re sending personal announcements out as quickly as they match people apparently. You should’ve gotten yours. You were listed in The Prophet’s article.”  
“I didn’t even check for the post this morning, I had one look at that rubbish in The Prophet and left to come here. Are you coming in with me? I’m putting a stop to this! They can NOT make me marry Ron!”  
Andy looked a bit confused. “Hermione, forgive me, love, but I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You’re paired with Ron. One of your two very best friends in the world.”  
“Oldest friends, perhaps, but best? Ron certainly doesn’t treat me like a best friend. He constantly dismisses my thoughts and opinions. He thinks I should be happy to marry into his perfect little pure-blood family. He doesn’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with this Replenishment Decree!”  
“Why are you still dating him, then?”  
“I’m not bloody dating Ronald Weasley! We kissed once! In the middle of a bloody battle! That does not negate seven years of misogyny and disrespect.”  
“Too true!” Andromeda got quiet for a moment then. “Hermione...I know you’re the brains of the Golden Trio but I think I have an idea…”  
Hoping the smirk on Andy’s face meant they would be turning the Decree on its ear, Hermione agreed to go with the other woman. Once outside, Andy pulled Hermione into a quiet alley.  
“Now, listen, Hermione, we’re going to go see someone else who wants nothing to do with the person with whom they’ve been paired but you need to keep an open mind. Yes?”  
“Yes, yes, fine, as long as I’m not marrying Ron,” she said impatiently.  
Andromeda stepped back, narrowing her eyes. “I’m sorry, maybe this is a bad idea.”  
“What? Why? Please, Andy!”  
“Because I thought you wanted to stop the Replenishment Decree, not just get away from Ron.”  
“Oh! Goodness, yes! This Decree is an affront to witches and wizards across Britain and I want to tell the Ministry exactly what I think of it.”  
“Then you’re going to have to trust me.”  
It was Hermione’s turn to narrow her eyes, “I do not like the sound of this.”  
“Eh, perhaps we should go for a cup of coffee first and talk. And then I’ll take you to...this other person.”  
With that agreed, the two witches headed into muggle London to find a little coffee shop. They ordered and paid for their beverages before they settled into a cozy corner in the back of the shop and Hermione couldn’t contain herself anymore.  
“Just tell me already, Andromeda. You’re terrible at keeping secrets, I’ve spent enough time with you and Teddy this summer to know it. Who is this mystery person?”  
“Okay, okay. It’s not like a big secret. Just, first, I want to explain some things to you. You know my name, right?”  
Hermione simply stared.  
“Right. And I’m the middle of three daughters; myself, preceded by Bellatrix and followed a few years later by Narcissa. When Bellatrix was twenty-two and Cissy only fourteen, I married Ted Tonks and had Nymphadora. My family disowned me, scorched me off the Black family tree, and removed all access to the vaults. Ted and I traveled a bit before we settled down here and we did our best to avoid any pure-blood families, knowing they would just tell my family we were back. I never spoke to either of my sisters again until Bellatrix showed up at my home with her crew of Snatchers and Death Eaters trying to find Ted. He wasn’t there, of course, having already gone on the run with Dirk. I heard nothing from Cissy at the time and only later found out what she did for me.”  
“Narcissa Malfoy, pure-blood supremacist? She did something for you?” Hermione shook her head a tiny bit to remind herself to quiet down. A muggle coffee shop filled with twenty-somethings was not the place to shout about blood status.  
“She truly did and she might have even saved my life...by sacrificing her own.” Andromeda’s eyes filled with tears. She took a breath to start again when she spotted the waiter coming with their drinks. Thankful for the reprieve she leaned back in her chair.  
Without a word, the young man carefully deposited their mugs and moved on to his next task behind the counter.  
Calm once more, Andromeda continued, “when I ran off to marry Ted, my mother wanted to send hit wizards after us. She would rather have a dead child than a blood-traitor. Narcissa agreed to marry Lucius Malfoy in my place if my mother agreed to let me live.”  
“Oh, please, Andromeda. Your little sister got to marry a rich, powerful pure-blood and you think she sacrificed herself for you?”  
“I knew you were too closed-minded to listen to me.”  
“Me? Closed-minded? I don’t even understand why we’re talking about this! I thought we were here to discuss wizarding marriages and this ridiculous decree, not your torturous sisters.”  
“Hermione, Bellatrix and Lucius were Seventh years when I was a Third year and Cissa wasn’t even old enough for Hogwarts yet. After those two graduated, Lord Malfoy approached my father about a union between our houses and Lucius wanted me. I insisted on being able to finish Hogwarts unwed even though Lucius wanted a wife and child immediately, my parents agreed that I, as a member of the House of Black, was due an education. By the time the end of my seventh year rolled around, Lucius and I had been betrothed for four years. Narcissa was fourteen when I ran off only days after graduation. Lucius was twenty-two. She gave up her dreams to keep me alive and I didn’t even know it. My parents were not so gracious as to let another daughter finish school before being wed. She truly sacrificed her future for my own.”  
“Fine, even Narcissa Malfoy has redeeming qualities. What does this story have to do with anything?”  
“I think you should marry my sister. She’s a good person who was trapped in a terrible life for a very long time. You could be a safe haven for her and she could be the same for you. All while turning this new decree right on its ear.”  
Hermione wanted to say no. Hell no. Merlin’s pants, no. But...it would throw the Ministry for a loop. There had been a lot of advancements in reproductive magic in the last decade - not that she actually intended to get pregnant, but the Ministry couldn’t use that to stop them.  
“I...am not actually saying no right now.”  
“Okay?”  
Hermione nodded slowly.  
“So, you’ll talk to Narcissa?”  
“I will. We should probably do it soon, though, before I lose this resolve.”  
Smirking, Andromeda stood and reached a hand out to Hermione, “No time like the present.”

Instead of heading into the office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they headed to Black Manor where Narcissa and Draco now lived. Apparating just outside the front gate, Andy turned to the younger woman. “Now, Hermione,” she started, “I haven’t even spoken to Narcissa about this yet and she’s had some upsetting news this morning. She might be...less than properly hospitable at the moment but please give me a chance to explain my idea.”  
Hermione swallowed noisily and nodded once, eyes forward, she was ready.

Before they could reach the steps, the door opened to reveal Draco on his way out in a handsome suit.  
“Well, nephew, don’t you look dapper this early in the day. Where are you off to?”  
“This Decree nonsense has me nervous. I’m going to go see if I can arrange to wed a friend before I’m paired up with some creepy Death Eater or their child.” He leaned in to kiss his aunt’s cheek and said as he was leaning back, “Mother’s in the sitting room with Teddy, he’s taking his morning nap.”  
Smiling, Andy thanked him and wished him luck.  
“Granger,” he nodded.  
“Malfoy,” she did the same.  
Hermione’s foot had just reached the top step when she heard Draco behind her take a deep breath. Glancing back she watched as Draco’s face blushed a light pink.  
“Say, Granger, I saw that you’re assigned Weasley. If you’re not keen on him, what do you say…”  
“Nope.”  
“Well,” Draco’s face went stone cold, “I know we weren’t chummy but I’m not that bad.”  
“Sorry, Draco. It’s just that, well, it’s just.” Hermione closed her eyes and blew her hair out of her face. “I didn’t mean to be so short about it, Draco, but the truth is I’m not interested in marrying any bloke. I prefer a witch to a wizard, you see.”  
“Oh,” Draco chuckled, “yes. I see. So, you and Ginny?” He raised his eyebrows teasingly and backed away laughing.  
“Ugh, Draco Malfoy! Go propose to Gregory Goyle!”  
Pausing mid-chortle, Draco turned and tilted his head. Eyes darting around rapidly for a few moments, he finally spoke, “You know, Granger. That’s not a half-bad idea. I think I’m developing a plan.” With that, he walked quickly through the gates and Disapparated.  
“This family and your plans,” Hermione teased.  
Andromeda simply laughed and led the younger woman inside. As the door closed behind them a young house elf silently appeared. She was dressed in the cutest jumpsuit Hermione had ever seen.  
“Hello, missus! Mistress Black is sleeping in the sitting room, missus! Pepper can get you your tea now!”  
“Thank you, Pepper. We can wait until Narcissa is awake to have tea. This is my friend, Hermione.”  
“Yes, missus, Pepper knows Hermione Granger. All the house elves know Hermione Granger. Pepper is pleased to meet you,” the sprightly little elf curtseyed.  
Kneeling before her new acquaintance, Hermione bowed her head in acknowledgment. “I’m pleased to meet you, too, Pepper. Might I say, your outfit is lovely.”  
“Thank you, Hermione Granger! Mistress Black helped Pepper pick it out. She said it made Pepper’s eyes sparkle.”  
Looking at Pepper’s bright green eyes that showed kindness and a hit of mischief, Hermione couldn’t help but agree. The floral jumpsuit did bring out her eyes.  
“Mistress Black was quite right! If you ever need another one, I would love to go shopping with you, Pepper.”  
Bowing again, Pepper thanked Hermione profusely. Once the little elf had left, Hermione turned to Andy with tears in her eyes.  
“His little sister.”  
“Does Harry know?”  
“Not yet. He hasn’t been here to visit Teddy, he’s only come to my house. I want to warn him before he meets Pepper that she’s so much like her brother, Dobby. Sweet, friendly, and genuinely caring. She also treasures her freedom in a unique way and has that same protective streak a mile wide.”  
Incredulous, Hermione wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’d’ve died if Dobby hadn’t given his life for us. Bellatrix was going to torture me and then hand me over to Fenrir. She whispered it to me as she pinned me to the floor of Malfoy Manor. And they all just watched.” Hermione hugged herself tightly.  
“Including me?” Narcissa asked quietly.  
Andromeda backed away in silence to let the other two talk through the moment.  
“Yes. Including you.” Hermione stood and looked past Narcissa, eyes unfocused, “You were standing there as she carved into my arm, cackling, and threatening me. Calling me vile names. Offering me up to a werewolf like a pig to slaughter. You didn’t help me. You stood there. You watched.”  
“Miss Granger, I was there, you’re right. But I wasn’t standing by gleefully watching a madwoman torture you. Can you picture me? If you close your eyes can you see me there?” Narcissa took a half-step closer.  
Hermione stared at Narcissa. Do I trust her enough to do this right now? No. But I do trust Andromeda. Blast. Finally, she closed her eyes. “I see you. Just over Bellatrix’s right shoulder. You have on green and black robes. Sleek. Fitted. Expensive looking but not fresh. I can see a tear in the hem on the bottom. A scuff on your expensive shoes. An extra wrinkle in your skirts where one shouldn’t be. Your hair is pinned up, though, with not a single strand out of place.”  
“What else do you see, Miss Granger? Look at my face in your memory. Notice things. You’re the brightest witch of your age. What do you see?”  
Frustrated but unwilling to give up, Hermione tried again, “You’re turned a little away with your body but your eyes are staring right at me. Your hands are...your hands are empty but your right hand is reaching a little. You have no wand but you’re saying something. A spell, yes, your hand turns and pulls back. You cast wandless magic! Your eyes won’t look away from my own. You’re...crying?” Opening her eyes, Hermione stared at Narcissa once more. Whispering, she asked Narcissa what she had been doing that night.  
“I knew exactly what athame my sister chose for you and why she chose it. Tell me, has anything happened to the scar she gave you?” Hermione shook her head in response. “Has it turned green? Started to poison your body? Expanded to eat away at your skin?” Hermione, once again, shook her head but this time she also gripped her arm where Bellatrix had carved so deeply. “Because I cast a wandless spell to take the poison from her favorite blade into myself. I was crying because I knew what she was saying and doing to you. I knew she was torturing you in more than one way that night but I felt I was powerless to stop it. Had I stepped in they would have simply killed us both. First, though, the torture would have gotten worse. Had I stepped in, it would have guaranteed that Fenrir Greybeck was allowed to claim rights on you. By allowing the terrors Bellatrix inflicted and helping silently as I did, I was honestly trying to save you from much, much worse.”  
“If you took the poison in, how are you still alive?”  
“No self-respecting Black would have a poisonous athame in their Manor without the ability to produce an antidote. It was close for a moment; the Dark Lord’s arrival delayed my access but Pepper somehow knew what had happened and had the antidote ready for me when I was finally able to go to my chamber for the night. I am sorry, Hermione, that I wasn’t able to stop her completely. I wish I had known how to be stronger right from the beginning.”  
Narcissa turned and started back to the sitting room, head hanging, shoulders dropped. To Hermione, Narcissa was the image of disappointment.  
“Um, Lady Malfoy? Sorry, rather, Mistress Black. Could you, that is, could we, um, talk? With Andy? She has some ideas about some things…”  
Nodding without slowing her pace, Narcissa agreed.  
All three women settled into place around the still sleeping Teddy in his travel cot.  
Unable to continue discussing That Night, Hermione turned to Andy and breathed deeply before opening the conversation, “Andromeda and I literally ran into one another in the Ministry this morning and she had an interesting idea. Andy?”  
“Er, yes. So. Narcissa, this morning that silly Decree was released and you were given notice that you’re to re-wed Lucius and I was told that I’m on the list to be paired, yes?”  
Narcissa nodded, her fingers twisting round each other as she fidgeted slightly.  
“Of course neither of us are happy with those outcomes. You’ve just gotten out of your marriage with Lucius and I’ve only just lost my dear Ted a few months ago.”  
“Yes, Andromeda, we talked about that this morning,” Narcissa stood abruptly and paced to the window, hands shaking.  
“Right, we did, right. Well, when I ran into Hermione she was also very upset about the Decree and I started to think about how we could, instead of simply asking for the Ministry to show us some respect, turn their plan on its ear a bit?”  
Narcissa remained silent, narrowing her eyes at her older sister. “I remember that tone of voice, Andromeda, quite well. What are you up to?”  
Gulping, Hermione interrupted, “I was ordered to marry Ron Weasley as you know from The Prophet. Not only am I not in a relationship with him but I would never be in a relationship with him. First of all he’s ignorantly sexist. Second, he’s absurdly full of himself. Third, he’s lazy. And fourth, well, fourth, he’s a he.”  
The youngest Black sister tilted her head in surprise at the confession.  
“I know, I was shocked when she told me earlier, too, but it got me to thinking...what do you say you and Hermione turn the Ministry upside down?”  
Glancing back and forth between the other two, Narcissa stayed frozen at the window. “And just how do we do such a thing?”  
“Well, you two get married, of course,” Andy laughed a little.  
“The two of us?”  
Andromeda and Hermione nodded.  
“Get married?”  
They nodded again.  
“To one another?”  
Another nod.  
After a beat, Narcissa continued, “And you’re okay with this, Miss Granger? You’d marry me? The disgraced former wife of a Death Eater? You don’t think that might cause problems for you? You’ve agreed to this?”  
“Well,” Hermione moved over to stand next to Narcissa near the window overlooking the garden, “I haven’t actually agreed to it, yet. I only agreed to discuss it with you. The whole idea of arranged marriages - by families or by the government - is anathema to me. No one should be telling anyone with whom they are to share their life and their bed. I think the entire Decree is repugnant. I do think we could help to pave the way for others to refuse by wedding one another.” Waiting for Narcissa to answer, Hermione finally stopped overthinking things and took notice of the other woman. Her hair was pulled up loosely into a bun with a few escaped tendrils framing her pale face. Her makeup was light but impeccable, just a bit of dark liner around her ice blue eyes and she wore a simple blouse with trousers, clearly not intending to leave the house.  
“We could. Or we could ruin your future.”  
“Oh, I doubt that, Mistress Black, very much. If you and I don’t wed one another I shall still not be marrying Ronald. I haven’t a clue what the Ministry will do to me if I simply refuse to marry anyone but that’s what I’m prepared to face.”  
“So, it’s me or legal repercussions? How romantic,” Narcissa said with an eye roll.  
Andromeda interrupted, “I think it’s subtle but it would be the first brick laid on the road to stopping this Decree in its tracks.”  
“But what about you, Andromeda?” Narcissa moved to her sister’s side. Taking the widow’s hand, she asked her what she planned to do.  
“I’m going to appeal to their sympathies. But first I’m going to find myself a reporter and cry on his or her shoulder about my lovely Ted and being a widowed grandmother caring for an infant and the worry of being assigned a stranger to marry and having to introduce someone into little Teddy’s life. When I’m done, people will be stopping the Decree for me and, hopefully, for every other widow made by this horrid war.”  
“Well played, Andy,” Hermione was impressed. “So, Mistress Black, what say you? Shall we head to the Ministry to light the spark of rebellion?”  
Grinning at the smirk on Hermione’s face, Narcissa agreed.  
“I’ll just change into something more appropriate and we can go. Though, we should perhaps come up with a plausible story for why no one knew of our supposed relationship? How long have we been together? When is your birthday? What do your parents think? How does Harry Potter deal with his best friend being involved with the mother of his schoolyard enemy?” Narcissa kept the questions coming as she made her way upstairs. Hermione stared after her, mouth agape, until she could no longer hear the melodious tones of Narcissa’s voice.  
Turning towards Andy, she saw the other woman smiling.  
“Welcome to the family, Miss Granger. We’re going to be sisters-in-law.”  
Teddy interrupted any answer Hermione might have given when he awoke with a cry.

Twenty minutes later, Narcissa made her way regally down the front stairs to meet Hermione at the door.  
“I think perhaps we should start our mission with lunch in Diagon Alley,” Narcissa suggested. “We could get people used to seeing us together and if we act like we do it all the time, they’ll believe we have. Then, when it comes out that we’ve requested to change our Decree status, they’ll be more supportive because they’ll recall having seen us together.”  
“But, if we’re together, shouldn’t we be upset at the Ministry demanding we marry others?”  
“Hmm, I don’t think we need to be upset. I think we can laugh it off a bit?”  
Hermione tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, “Laugh it off. Like the Decree is such a ridiculous thing especially when, obviously, our relationship would come before any silly little mandate from the Ministry…”  
“Exactly, Miss Granger. Rather, I should say, exactly, Hermione. Of course the Decree is of no concern to us. We are confident that the Ministry wouldn’t really seek to force witches and wizards in the modern day, nearing the new millennium, to marry or bed someone they don’t wish. Why, it’s hardly better than using Imperius!”  
“Mistress Black - Narcissa - you are brilliant! That Slytherin cunning is a valuable trait.”  
Grinning, Narcissa blushed a lovely shade of pink and thanked the younger woman for the compliment.  
“Let’s just tell Andromeda we’re leaving, and then we can pop right over to Diagon Alley for lunch.”  
The witches said their goodbyes and gave Teddy a few extra snuggles before heading out.  
With a plan in place, Hermione noticed Narcissa was a bit more relaxed...until they were outside the Leaky Cauldron. Suddenly, Narcissa wasn’t smiling, her shoulders were tight, eyes downcast. Hermione glanced around before pulling the other woman to the side to ask what was going on.  
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Narcissa took a deep breath, clearly preparing herself for something.  
“Narcissa, it’s obviously something,” Hermione whispered, moving closer, “I don’t want to start this off not knowing where you’re coming from. You look like you’re headed into battle.”  
“Hermione, I am! Don’t you know? Haven’t you been around people for the last three months? Aurors are searching everywhere for the Death Eaters who haven’t yet been caught and the general population is sure I’m hiding every last one. I shouldn’t do this to you,” Narcissa anguished.  
“Okay, stop right there.” Hermione cast a quick Notice-Me-Not charm on them before Apparating to a safe point in a quiet corner of Diagon Alley bypassing the need to walk through the Leaky Cauldron. Once there, Herimone spoke again, “You can’t back out on me now, Narcissa. We’re in this together. We’re protecting each other and fighting the Ministry. What better way to prove that you’re not hiding a Death Eater in your skirts than to be accompanied by a member of the Golden Trio?”  
Gasping, Narcissa nodded.  
“Good. Now wipe those tears away. We have an oppressive regime to topple. But first? Lunch.”  
Laughing, Narcissa tucked her hand into Hermione’s elbow and allowed herself to be led to a nearby pub and seated in a cozy, romantic window booth.  
The women started their conversation by sharing little tidbits about themselves; birthdays, family names, favorite school subjects but before they knew it, hours had passed and they were deep in conversation about the ease with which the Ministry had been able to enact oppressive laws for the past few years and where exactly the blame should be placed for that and how to overcome it.  
“Excuse me, Miss Granger? Lady Malfoy?”  
“Actually, it’s Mistress Black,” Hermione corrected their waiter, reaching over to place her hand gently atop Narcissa’s.  
“My apologies, Mistress Black. I wanted to inquire if you wished to order anything else. Dinner perhaps?”  
“Dinner?” Hermione’s brow furrowed, “My goodness, it’s dark outside!”  
“I didn’t even realize,” Narcissa laughed a bit. “Would it be a problem for us to stay and have dinner? We can go if we’re taking up the table too long,” she offered.  
“No need to go,” he said gently, “You’re free to order dinner as well. I tried to say something earlier but your conversation was tough to break into!”  
Blushing, Hermione cleared her throat and the pair decided on dinner and a bottle of wine.  
As they finished their plates, the two were setting plans for the weekend.  
“I think you’ll really love the National Gallery, Narcissa. I haven't been in so long because of Hogwarts and then Voldemort but, I’d really love to visit.”  
“It sounds like a lovely way to spend what looks to be a rainy Friday. Thank you for inviting me,” Narcissa said quietly.  
“Of course! I love museums,” Hermione chuckled at herself.  
Glancing first down, and then out the window, Narcissa confessed, “I’ve actually never been to one.”  
Hermione reached out once more to cover the other woman’s hand with her own. Kindly, she said, “Well, Narcissa, I’m honored to take you on your first visit then.”  
Narcissa, clearing her throat daintily, gestured for the waiter to bring the bill. Once it was settled and the women were back in Diagon Alley, they realized how late it had gotten.  
“Narcissa, I think we should pop back to Black Manor from here, it’s awfully dark.” Hermione, her hand fitted into Narcissa’s elbow this time, tightened her hold on the other woman.  
“Side-along?”  
Murmuring her agreement, Hermione closed her eyes to the uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a straw.  
Standing outside the gates to Black Manor, the lady of the house turned to Hermione, “Well, Miss Granger. I’ve actually had a completely delightful day with you.”  
“And I with you, Mistress Black,” Hermione laughed at their faux formalities. “I’ll come round tomorrow morning. Early?”  
“Mmm, yes. Come by before 8 and we can explain the situation to Draco over breakfast before heading to the Ministry.”  
Leaning in, Hermione pressed her lips carefully to Narcissa’s pale cheek, “Goodnight, Narcissa. I’ll see you in the morning.” She pulled back and opened the gate for the other woman.  
Narcissa didn’t say another word. She simply walked through the open gate and allowed it to close behind her. She turned to watch as Hermione Disaparrated and then reached up, unthinkingly, to brush her fingers across the heat the younger woman had left behind with her kiss.  
“I’m planning to start a rebellion against a ministry decree by marrying a muggle-born witch seventeen years younger than me,” Narcissa laughed right out loud.


	2. Curiouser and curiouser

Harry, rising early to enjoy his morning peace again, heard Hermione bustling around in her room. He tapped quietly on her door as he passed on his way down to the kitchen.  
“Yes, Harry?”  
“Nothing, Hermione! You’re just up early is all. Would you like some tea?”  
“No, thank you,” she answered, opening the door, “I’m fine. Just trying to get myself ready to face the Ministry with Narcissa.”  
At Harry’s blank stare, Hermione realized that she hadn’t shared a single bit of what had happened yesterday with her best friend. “On second thought, Harry, why don’t you get your tea and bring it up here and we can talk? Or, have your tea and then join me at Black Manor and we can explain the whole thing together?”  
Blinking owlishly for a moment, Harry finally answered, “I think I’ll take option two. I rather enjoy my quiet tea and I’d like to check the Prophet’s headlines today.” Harry turned and continued his trek for tea.

Settling back into his comfortable routine, Harry found both the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler on the doorstep along with a familiar owl waiting patiently.  
“Hermes! Hello, friend! Come in for a treat?” Harry knelt down and untied the letter from Hermes’ leg. Percy Weasley’s owl flew in ahead of Harry and he continued his conversation with the bird, “Now why didn’t you tap the window? No need to wait outside! Come on into the kitchen and I’ll get you a bit of bacon.”  
Hopping onto the sill, Hermes let out a small hoot as Harry dropped some bacon in a pan and set the kettle to boil. Before he checked the papers, he opened the letter Hermes had delivered; only after he read it did he realize it had been addressed to Hermione.  
“Oh, boy, Hermes, we’re in for it today, mate, aren’t we. You’d better wait for an answer from Hermione before you go home. Here’s a bite for your troubles, though.”  
“Harry,” the woman in question said as she burst through the door, “whomever are you speaking to?”  
Harry silently handed Hermione the letter and placed a quill on the table next to where she stood. “I’d like to have some tea. I have a feeling I missed quite an exciting day yesterday and I need some fortification before I hear about it.”

Hermione dropped into a chair at the table and furiously scribbled a response on the back of the letter she had just read. Before she could attach it to Hermes’ leg, though, Harry intercepted it and handed her another piece of parchment - blank this time - saying, “I know you’re angry. I understand why and I support you. Whatever you’ve just written was no doubt satisfying but don’t send it. The Weasleys mean you no harm however you feel right now.”  
Huffing, Hermione slapped her pam down on the table. “I’m expected for supper! Expected! As though I answer to them now! And Mrs. Weasley has questions for me about my ‘mealtime assignation at The Wize Wizard’ yesterday. Harry! I am going to lose my mind. I know I’m just 18 and hardly an adult in the eyes of Molly and Arthur Weasley but I will not stand for this. I am part of the reason we won the damn war. I fought alongside you, without running away, for months. Protecting us. Hiding us. Apparating, Disillusionments, hexes, curses, shields, whatever we needed. I do not deserve to be treated as though I am unable to make my own decisions.”  
Hands on her shoulders, Harry looked Hermione right in the eye. “You are right. You are absolutely, inviolably correct. You still don’t want to lash out. It’s not who you are and you’ll just feel guilty later. If you really don’t want to see the Weasleys tonight just tell them you’re not available and you’ll reach out soon about catching up.”  
Tears leaking from her eyes, Hermione shook her head, “That’s just it, though. I don’t want to catch up. We have nothing in common. They blindly believe that the Ministry is one hundred percent good because Voldemort’s gone. Mrs. Weasley, and Ron for that matter, can’t see that we still have a long way to go to fix the attitudes that allowed those pureblood supremacist views to take root in the first place.”

Harry pulled Hermione in for a tight hug. Nothing he could say was going to change anything and he agreed with her, anyway.  
“You going to tell me why we’re heading to Black Manor or do I just get to be surprised again?”  
While she chuckled into Harry’s shoulder, they both heard the sound of the front door opening.  
“It’s just Ron,” Harry whispered.  
“Yes it is. And he’s going to be sorry.” The talented witch pulled Harry’s wand from his back pocket, where he’s still lucky not to have cursed off his own buttock, and had it pointed right at the kitchen door where she knew she’d see Ron in a matter of moments.

Smirking at the accuracy of their assumption, Hermione said loudly - just to startle the redhead - “Locomotor Mortis!” and cursed Ron into immobility.  
“Hermione!” he shouted as his legs locked together and he fell straight backward through the doorway. “I can not believe you just did that!”  
“Were you not warned?” She handed Harry back his wand and pulled out her own, “Levicorpus.” Hermione walked under Ron to the front door before muttering the counter jinx. A quick Disillusionment charm on Ron before she opened the door saying, “Wingardium Leviosa,” and Ron found himself deposited right back on the front step.  
Just before the door shut, he heard Harry quickly call out, “Finite incantatum!”  
No amount of knocking, shouting, or “Alohamora” could get the door to open for Ronald again that morning.  
Witnessing Hermione purposefully walk back into the kitchen, Harry gave up on his tea. He watched in amusement as she simply scrawled Unavailable across the parchment and signed it H. Granger before gently tying it to Hermes and scratching his soft head. “Thank you, little owl. Fly safely.” She pushed open the window and Hermes was off, soaring through the gray sky.  
“No doubt Ron is still out front. Can we just carefully Apparate from the back? I really do need to get to Black Manor and then the Ministry. We never made it yesterday.”  
Overwhelmed, Harry simply nodded.

When the pair finally appeared at the gates of Black Manor, Narcissa was waiting to let them in.  
“Good morning, Narcissa,” Hermione offered with a little grin.  
“Hermione,” Narcissa smiled back.  
“Good morning, Lady Malfoy,” Harry said uncertainly.  
“Oh, it’s not Lady Malfoy anymore, Harry. They’ve divorced. She’s Mistress Black.”  
“Thank you, Hermione. Good morning, Mr. Potter. Shall we go in for breakfast?” Narcissa presented her arm to Hermione with a slight tilt of her head.  
“Mm-hmm,” Hermione pressed her lips together, attempting to contain her smile. She had genuinely enjoyed her hours with Narcissa the day before and was looking forward to spending more time together. The other woman was so smart and well-read, Hermione was excited to go to the National Gallery with her.  
Glancing back, Hermione watched as Harry rubbed his hand over his messy hair, head tilted down.  
“Harry,” she called, “It’s okay. I promise. Come inside with us for tea and breakfast and we’ll explain everything.”  
Hands firmly in his pockets, the boy who lived and died and lived again, trailed behind his best friend.

Just before they stepped into the house, Hermione stopped short, “Oh! Um, Narcissa, just, um, give us a moment. I have to tell Harry...something...important. We’ll be right there.”  
Nodding, Narcissa stepped inside and moved the door partially closed.  
“You should know, Harry, before you see her that there is a house elf working here who will remind you very much of someone you lost.”  
“Are you talking about Pepper?”  
Jaw dropped, Hermione just gaped at Harry.  
“I’ve met her. Dobby told me all about her. She’s a free elf, Hermione; she chooses to work for the Black family. She’s actually been to visit me. We’ve spent time at Grimmauld Place, cleaning things up a bit. Is she here today? I’d love to see her again!” He smiled.

Finally in the kitchen after an extended conversation with Pepper, Narcissa, Harry, and Hermione were just sitting down at the breakfast table when Draco came in.  
“Potter.”  
“Malfoy.”  
Hermione bit her lip, grasping the other woman’s arm, and Narcissa’s eyes filled with tears. She wouldn’t be able to make this work if her son and Hermione’s best friend still hated each other. No one would believe them.  
The former enemies proceeded to fall into hysterics.  
“What on Earth?” came from Narcissa.  
“Sorry, Mother,” Draco sputtered, still laughing. “Harry and I have spoken a few times this summer. We ran into one another at a Quidditch match and went for a beer after. Cleared the air a bit as it were.”  
“Too right we did. We were both being manipulated into situations that were really just beyond us for the most part and played into stereotypes handed down through generations for no reason other than willful ignorance. It’s one of the things we need to work towards stopping with the current generation of Hogwarts students.”

After a full minute of silence, Narcissa finally broke, “Well, then neither of you should have a problem with our news either.”  
Draco wisely bit his tongue to allow his mother to share her own news at her own pace.  
“As you’re both no doubt aware,” she began, “the Ministry has laid down the Replenishment Decree to turn witches into baby making factories and remove self-determination from the magical human British population. Hermione, being the brightest witch of her age, has ingeniously come up with a plan to, how did you say it?” Narcissa turned her head to Hermione, “To light the spark of rebellion?”  
Hermione nodded enthusiastically before turning back to Harry and Draco.  
“And how do you plan to light the spark, Hermione?” Harry asked.  
“By marrying my girlfriend, Narcissa, of course,” she answered in the tried-and-true tone of the know-it-all she would always be.  
Draco, laughing, applauded. “It sounds like a fun rebellion! A wedding between the House of Black and a member of the Golden Trio? Should be the biggest party of the year!”  
“And...you get to tell the Ministry you won’t marry the person to whom you’ve been assigned.”  
“Exactly, Harry. Subtle refusals. Nothing huge. No foot-stomping. Just a simple, ‘No, thank you, I’ll choose my wife for myself’ to start it off.”  
“And my Aunt Andromeda? Where does she fall in all of this?”  
“Oh, she’s lighting a different spark!” Narcissa joined in again, “Andromeda is going to find a reporter from the Prophet and bear her broken heart. She’ll talk about how being a widow of the recent war, it’s just too soon for her to say good-bye to the memories of her dearly departed husband and how she can’t possibly introduce someone into little Teddy’s life right now. He’s a child who’s just been orphaned by war, he needs consistency and calmness, not the stress of a new adult. And she can’t possibly consider getting married and having a baby right now, she’s already caring for one.”  
Draco sat next to Harry as Pepper served breakfast to the foursome. “Is there another angle? We’re covering people in relationships, widows, single parents with young children. Is there another group who should be lighting their own spark?”  
“I think, I mean, that is to say, I think,” Hermione stumbled over her words, “We need to see who their pairs are. I think we need to come at it from a gay rights are human rights standpoint, too. Talk about how advanced the wizarding world is supposed to be and how forcing our child-bearing population into arranged marriages with members of the opposite sex is an ancient practice that’s better left in the history books and not the headlines. We aren’t chattel and the government should not be trying to force us to breed. What about people who simply don’t want children?”

The foursome continued to discuss different population groups who could be exploited by the Ministry’s latest overreach. “If I didn’t know better,” Harry said, as they stood from the table, “I’d say this has Umbridge written all over it.”  
“Is she still around? I thought she ran off after the Battle,” Draco followed Harry to the front door.  
“I think she’s back at the Ministry right now. I saw her there last week when I stopped in to inquire about Auror training.”  
Heads shaking all around, no one could believe the Ministry would let her back in after so much documented abuse against others.  
“No need to worry, I have some experience going head to head with Dolores Umbridge, haven’t I?” Hermione chuckled dryly, “I’ll just bring a recording of hooves along.”  
They split up just outside the gate. Hermione and Narcissa headed to London to go to the Ministry, Harry went back home, and Draco was still being quite mysterious about his Replenishment Decree plans.

Once in the Ministry phone booth, Narcissa spoke, stating both their names and that they were seeking to rectify a mistake regarding the Replenishment Decree. Their name badges popped out and they were instructed to stop at the Security Checkpoint inside.  
“You’re taking our wands?” Hermione asked for the third time.  
“Standard procedure, Miss Granger, as I’ve just said. All guests at the Ministry are to submit their wands for safe keeping while visiting the Departments. It’s for everyone’s benefit,” the security witch repeated, clearly frustrated.  
“It’s fine, Hermione,” Narcissa whispered in her ear, “just hand over your wand. We’re making a scene of the wrong sort.”  
Hermione turned her body into Narcissa’s to whisper back, “I don’t like the way some of the people in here have been looking at us. I feel unprotected. What if someone is aggressive?”  
“I’m sure there won’t be any Death Eaters popping up in the Ministry to attack you today, dear,” Narcissa reassured the younger woman.  
“In the words of your dear cousin, ‘the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters.’ And it’s not the latter I’m worried about today. Nor is it me for whom I’m worried,” Hermione stepped back, looking into Narcissa’s eyes. Due to their closeness, she was able to see the subtle flush of the other woman’s cheeks and the near smile her words had caused.

Turning back to the security desk with a huff, Hermione handed over her precious wand for weighing in and inspection.  
“Vine wood, ten and three quarter inches, dragon heartstring core, purchased in 1991 from Ollivander’s, registered to Hermione Jean Granger, muggle-born. Accurate?”  
Hermione didn’t answer as she stood staring incredulously at the witch behind the desk. Narcissa pinched Hermione’s arm to get her to respond. “Yes. Yes, that’s all true.”  
“Here’s your ticket. Bring it back to this desk when you’re leaving and we’ll return your wand.”  
“Lady Black?”  
Narcissa silently placed her own wand upon the counter for inspection.  
“Rowan wood, ten and three quarter inches, dragon heartstring core, purchased in,” the witch paused and glanced at Narcissa before continuing, “in 1998 from Ollivander, registered to Narcissa Black, pureblood. Accurate?”  
“Yes.”  
“And where is your former wand?”  
“My son borrowed it in May and it was destroyed by a Fiendfyre curse cast by Vincent Crabbe.”  
After making a note about it, the security witch asked if Narcissa had proof.  
“I’m very confused,” Hermione interjected. “Are wands illicit property now? Is there not a wand shop right in Diagon Alley where we could go and buy a hundred wands if we so chose?” Turning to Narcissa, Hermione rolled her eyes and asked sarcastically, “Did I miss another Decree?”  
Snorting, Narcissa shushed the other woman.  
“I’m sorry, I haven’t got proof other than my son telling me what happened. You’re aware I purchased this wand just this summer from Ollivander and my previous wand had been purchased for me at birth from the same shop. I apologize if this makes your job today more difficult. I can see about getting proof that my other wand was destroyed, though I haven’t really any idea where to start.”  
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll check with Ollivander myself. He seems to know everything that happens with his wands. Here’s your ticket. Bring it back to this desk when you’re leaving and we’ll return your wand. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is on the second floor.”

The two headed quietly to the elevators, Hermione walking as stiff as flagpole, muscles completely tensed. As the elevator door opened before them, Narcissa gently placed her hand on the small of Hermione’s back to guide the other woman in first and hopefully bring a little relaxation to her body. Alone at last, Hermione asked about Narcissa’s wands. “I think it’s quite interesting that we both have dragon heartstring, don’t you?”  
Smiling at the direction Hermione’s train of thought had gone, Narcissa murmured her agreement.  
“What was your first wand? The one you didn’t choose? Or rather, the one that didn't’ choose you?”  
Narcissa answered with a smirk, “Elm, of course.”  
“Why of course? What’s special about Elm? I don’t really know much wand lore other than that about the Elder wand and Harry and Voldemort’s twin cores.”  
“Oh, it’s said that only pure-bloods can produce magic from Elm wands. So, of course, many old houses insisted on Elm for their children.”  
Hermione’s brow furrowed and she absently ran her fingers across her lips. Before she could ask her next question, however, the doors opened on the second floor.  
Even though Hermione didn’t ask, Narcissa still answered her unspoken question quietly as they stepped into the hallway, “No, I did not purchase - nor did I allow anyone else to purchase - Draco an Elm wand upon his birth. He was chosen by a Hawthorn wand at Ollivander’s before he went to Hogwarts just like the rest of you.”

The women were stopped by a receptionist and directed to the office of the Administrative Registration Department where they were handling all pairing related to the Replenishment Decree. They knocked on an office door where one could still faintly read the hastily scraped off “Muggle-Born Registration Commission” writing that had been replaced by a piece of paper taped to the nearest wall proclaiming it to be the ARD. A copy of the Replenishment Decree, technically called Ministerial Decree Number 192, also hung on the wall next to the door. While they waited for the door to be opened for them, the women found themselves reading the actual text of the decree itself.  
“Whereas to further the goals of the Ministry for Magic; this Ministry hereby proclaims Ministerial Decree Number 192, the Replenishment Decree. The purpose of Ministerial Decree Number 192 is to increase the number of Wizarding children to thereby increase the Wizarding population in the United Kingdom and beyond. Ministerial Decree Number 192 will call upon our Ministry officials to assign marriage partners to all unwed witches and wizards of legal, child-bearing age. All such arrangements must wed before 2 January 1999. All such arrangements must result in the production of at least one child per calendar year for the years 1999, 2000, and 2001. Ministerial Decree Number 192 is approved with the majority vote of the Wizengamot.”  
Just as Hermione finished reading, the door in front of them opened and a startled Mafalda Hopkirk was before them.  
“Miss Hopkirk,” Hermione stuttered out.  
“Miss Granger, Lady Black,” Mafalda nodded.  
“We’re here about the Decree.”  
“Yes,” Mafalda answered with a gusty sigh, “I assumed so. Right in there,” she gestured to the office she had just exited. “I think you’ll find you’re not the first with complaints.”  
Surprised at the tone of frustration, Narcissa and Hermione entered the Administration’s office.

“May I help you?” A young man asked.  
“Yes, thank you. We’re here about our marriage...assignments,” Hermione said flatly.  
Finally looking up, the seated man realized to whom he was speaking, “Um, Miss Granger, of course. Is there a problem? You’ve been given Ron Weasley, right? Your boyfriend?”  
“Well,” Narcissa interrupted with a fake laugh, “that right there is the problem. Ron and Hermione are not dating.”  
Bewildered, he pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet from earlier in the week with a headline above a picture of a laughing Ron and Hermione. “I’m confused. The Daily Prophet has been calling you the number one couple of the summer for months.”  
“Sorry to disappoint but the Daily Prophet is completely wrong. Ron and I are absolutely not dating. We’ve been friends for seven years, there are bound to be pictures of us laughing together, crying together, probably even hugging. But we’re not dating. I’m not marrying Ron.”  
“And I do not wish to marry Lucius. He and I were just divorced, in fact. It does seem rather cruel that, after a very well-publicized divorce with details that were certainly known to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you would assign me right back to the abusive husband from whom I’ve only just escaped.”  
“Terrible,” Hermione shook her head and wrapped her arm around Narcissa’s waist as if for support.

“And what do you propose I do about this?” the young man looked completely dumbfounded.  
“We’re going to marry each other, of course,” Hermione said with a bright smile.  
“You two?” The women nodded. “Are going to marry...one another?” They nodded again.  
“Yes. Hermione and I are going to marry one another.”  
“She’s a muggle-born, Madam Malfoy.”  
“It’s Lady Black, thank you very much, and soon to be Madam Granger-Black. And her blood-status is of no matter to me. Did we not just fight a whole war about this?” She turned to Hermione, clearly exasperated.  
“We did, my dear, and I was actually under the impression that the winning side was NOT concerned with pure-blood rhetoric. Is there a Dark Lord around here somewhere with which I’m unfamiliar?”  
“No, of course, not. I meant no disrespect, missus, I was just trying to consider your placement in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. If you prefer a younger female partner I can pair you with Pansy Parkinson, Hannah Abbott, or Astoria Greengrass,” he said to Narcissa, not even glancing at Hermione.  
“No! You most certainly may not! This whole thing - ”  
“Is getting out of hand,” Narcissa interjected. “We merely wished to assert our right as a couple to wed one another. Though we do wish we didn’t have to rush the wedding so much. We’d have both liked to put a lot more planning into it and the Decree completely ruined the romantic proposal I’ve been working on,” she said gently as she intertwined her hand with Hermione’s. “My future wife does not need to be paired with anyone else, of either gender, thank you, nor do I. Can you please simply adjust the register to put us together?”  
Though she sorely wanted to hex the rude expression of his face, Narcissa merely smiled as he removed their previous arrangements and listed them together.   
“Thank you,” Narcissa hesitated, looking for his name, “MacMillan. My fiancée and I appreciate your swift attention to this matter.”  
“Are you by any chance related to Ernie?” Hermione asked.  
“I, uh, I am, yes,” the officer answered briskly, “he’s my younger brother.”  
“I just wondered how he was doing? I saw him that day...at Hogwarts? But didn’t see him afterwards and I was worried.”  
“Oh, well. Yes, he’s home with our parents. Thank you for asking,” he nodded dismissively and bent over his work once more.  
“Darling, we really should be going. We’ve taken up quite enough of his time today,” Narcissa gently tugged Hermione toward the door.  
“Yes, of course,” Hermione followed but stopped just in the doorway, “If you wouldn’t mind, could you just tell Ernie I’m glad he’s okay?”  
The two witches left quickly after that, maintaining their grip on one another’s hands absentmindedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I absolutely love reviews and truly appreciate each and every person who takes the time to write one...I've learned my lesson and turned on comment moderation. My story is G rated at the moment, I do not need nor want comments that are simply sexual suggestions upping the rating to M. Please, criticize, critique, commend, comment - I love it!


	3. Nothing is ever easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to re-read and spell/grammar check but I likely missed something somewhere! Please be kind...

For the third day in a row, Harry’s morning tea was less than perfectly peaceful when it was interrupted by a tapping at the kitchen window. Praying it wasn’t another letter from the Weasley’s Harry was relieved to find the owl unfamiliar and the beautiful handwriting also unknown. Though it was addressed to Hermione, it still left Harry feeling anxious and generally ill-at-ease after the previous two days.  
  
The Daily Prophet was still reporting on the Replenishment Decree and Hermione had, once again, earned a spot in the article. The opening paragraph cited the Administration’s agreement to allow Hermione to request an alteration to her engagement but cited it as an ongoing situation and worded it in such a way as to make it seem that the Ministry was simply being kind to Hermione before wedding her off to Ron anyway. The reporter covering the Decree, Kikis Trecus, was clearly in support of the forced marriages and was reporting on the pairings with obvious delight. The article wrapped up with  


The latest happy couples to be announced by the Ministry’s Matchmakers are Deirdre Cresswell and Albert Davies, Mandy Brocklehurst and Dean Thomas, Daphne Greengrass and Torben Rowle, Anca Shafiq and Ezekial Prewett, and Taylor Evans and Wayland Wright. We’ve heard from reputable sources that Deirdre Cresswell is grateful to the Ministry for assigning her so quickly so she can finally have a useful second parent for her two boys. This reporter is looking forward to the Shafiq-Prewett wedding; it’s sure to be the social event of the year! Let us know which weddings you’re most looking forward to with an owl to The Daily Prophet’s social column.  


Done with the Prophet’s pro-Ministry outlook, Harry flipped through the Quibbler to find something about the Decree but there wasn’t anything. Not a single article relating to the most recent government overreach. Unusual…  


When Hermione made her way downstairs half an hour later, Harry was calmly pouring himself a second cup of tea with a small smile on his face. Hearing her, he poured her a cup as well.

“Any plans for leading a rebellion today, Hermione?”  


Laughing out loud, Hermione only shook her head and rolled her eyes at Harry’s silliness. “Not at the moment. I was thinking about reaching out to Professor McGonagall about my NEWTS but I haven’t quite decided. I’m actually not too keen to spend a year back at Hogwarts, however much I loved it there before.”  


“I wondered when that would come up,” Harry sat back at the table. “I know you have big plans for your future and you probably need that seventh year to see those plans come to fruition, yeah?”  


“I think so. I don’t know that I truly need another year of every subject to pass my NEWTS and get an apprenticeship, though. I’ve been wondering if perhaps I could take my NEWT level courses as Independent Studies of a sort. There’s really no one at Hogwarts right now who’s academically prepared for Seventh year; last year was not up to the educational standards for which Hogwarts is known. I’d be spending a lot of time on information and practices at which I’m already proficient. If I were able to take the courses I need for my future independently, it would be much more effective.”  


“Sounds reasonable to me,” Harry nodded. He slid the letter addressed to Hermione across the table to her, “By the way, this came by owlpost this morning. I didn’t recognize the owl and she didn’t stick around for a treat or an answer.”  


“She?”  


“Oh. Well, I guess I don’t really know. Just seemed like a female to me. She was a gorgeous Tawny, a little on the petite side but seemed full grown.”  


Smiling a bit sadly, Hermione covered Harry’s hand with her own, “I guess you’re still researching for your next owl?”  


“I have been,” Harry swallowed hard, “I think I’m pretty set on a Tamaulipas Pygmy Owl. I had considered an Elf Owl but Ginny thinks the Pygmy is a bit cuter.”  


“That’s a lovely choice, Harry. Very cute and the Tamaulipas is far less common than the Elf.”  


Even after more than a year, Harry had to wipe away a tear when remembering how he had lost his beloved Hedwig. “Thanks, Hermione. Uh, I think I’m going to write Hagrid and see if he has any ideas on where we could go for one. I don’t think they typically carry that breed at Eeylops.”  


“Big days for us both, then,” Hermione nodded at her friend as he got up. Brushing away her own tears at the memory of Hedwig’s death, Hermione breathed deeply and started to open the letter. She flipped the envelope back over for a moment to look at the handwriting again. She didn’t recognize it but it was beautifully written in black ink with a sheen of dark green when the envelope was angled.

“Narcissa,” Hermione whispered to herself, pulling the letter out. She read it aloud, “Hermione, I know we’ve spent the past two days together and have plans to go to the National Gallery tomorrow, however, I was wondering if you would like to meet for lunch. Perhaps in Hogsmeade? If so, come to the Manor. Narcissa.”  


Fully smiling after she finished, Hermione checked the time and second guessed her instinct to immediately get up and leave for Black Manor in Enfield. Before I write to McGonagall, I should get Narcissa’s opinion. She has a vested interest in my education now and also, I should consider her plans for life for the next year. What if she intends to abide by the child-rearing demand in the Decree? Yes, this is definitely something I should discuss with Narcissa.

Hermione left a note for Harry on the table, letting him know she had gone out with Narcissa for the day and quickly stepped outside to Apparate to her fiance. The dark sky threatened a storm and Hermione hoped it wasn’t already raining further north where Black Manor was located.

Once she’d arrived at Black Manor, however, Hermione wasn’t sure what to do. The rain hadn’t started here yet, either, but she didn’t want to push on the gates in case they were warded against visitors and she could find no way to alert those inside of her presence. Only moments later, though, the Manor door was pulled open and Narcissa stepped outside with her wand. Waving it quickly, the gates swung in to allow Hermione’s entrance. The women met on the walkway, stopping abruptly only a step away from one another. Narcissa, blushing slightly once more, reached out and wrapped an arm around Hermione’s waist to pull her in for an embrace.  
“We’re going to be married, Hermione. We should probably at the very least hug one another when we see each other.”

Heart pounding, Hermione reached around Narcissa as well with one hand, the other sliding slowly up Narcissa’s right arm to gently cradle the back of her neck. “Fair point,” she agreed and pressed her lips once more against Narcissa’s smooth cheek. Hermione enjoyed hearing the stuttered breath her kiss had caused. They held one another for a long moment before stepping back to meet one another’s gaze.

“Good morning,” Narcissa stated formally, causing Hermione to erupt in giggles. That did not sit well with the Lady of the Manor. “Laughing at me?”

“No, no, Narcissa, no,” Hermione said, still giggling a tiny bit. She stepped forward again, wrapping her arms once more around her soon-to-be-wife, “I just thought it sounded so formal after we’d already hugged and everything is hitting me a little strangely right now. We’re getting married? It’s in the papers. But we hardly know each other and we’ve hugged hello and then to say good morning it just struck me funny.”

“Oh, my, you’re a rambler, aren’t you,” Narcissa teased, squeezing Hermione back. “You’re not wrong. It was a bit backwards. I’m sorry. I think I feel a little overwhelmed, too.” Narcissa returned the kiss onto Hermione’s cheek. “Before we go inside, let’s introduce you to the gates so you can come right in next time. Would that be okay?”

“Of course,” Hermione tried to sound calm but her pulse started to race. For all her battles through the past seven years she had never grown comfortable with the sight of her own blood and she was absolutely not looking forward to slicing her hand open for the gates of Black Manor.

“You’ll need your wand,” Narcissa smirked as they stood before the gates.

“My wand? You mean you’re not going to cut me?”

“Cut you?” Narcissa shook her head. “Hermione, not all of the old ways are based on blood magic, you know. We simply put our wand tips together, say an incantation, then you put your hand on the latch.”

“Um, oh. I think maybe I have some more prejudices to get over than I realized,” Hermione said ashamedly.

“We both do, dear,” the other woman replied with such kindness. “Now, wand up. Here we go.”

After they completed the ritual, Narcissa made Hermione exit and enter on her own to be sure the gate worked properly. As they walked inside, Hermione asked another question, “Narcissa, this is going to sound odd, but did you notice anything when we put our wands together?”

“That it felt like a bolt of lightning was waiting to come out of my arm? No, nothing unusual at all. Can’t imagine why you’d ask,” she teased again.

“No, come on, really, you noticed that, right?”

“I did, Hermione - and I don’t think it was just a byproduct of the storm that’s clearly rolling in. I was wondering about it as well but I think I already have a fairly decent theory.”

Narcissa turned and looked at Hermione. They spoke in unison, “twin cores.”

“Exactly! Can we stop by Ollivander’s today?” She glanced at the huge, dark cloud on it’s way, “Or sometime soon? I’d love to find out if the dragon heartstring in our wands is from the same dragon!” Hermione was so excited.

“Wand lore is so interesting, isn’t it? I’ve spent a good amount of time researching about the different wand woods used around the world. Did you know that redwood wands are still the most purchased secondary wand in Europe but not in the Americas?”

“Why is redwood so popular as a choice?”

“Because people are foolish. There’s an old witches’ tale that redwood wands bring good fortune.”

“What do they bring?”

“The same kind of magic any other wand would bring to a mediocre witch or wizard. You have to be paired carefully with the right wand and there are many, many factors that enter into the relationship between a witch and her wand. Wand length, wand wood, the core, and the flexibility are the main focus. If those are a good match, you’re fine. But if one of those pieces is off it’s likely to be a poor match. Of course, in the case of a witch’s first wand, if it’s purchased at Ollivander’s, the wrong one wouldn’t do. You’d know right away.”

“Is that what happened when you went this summer to get your new wand? You knew right away?”

“It’s actually quite interesting,” Narcissa said sitting on a loveseat and pulling the younger woman down beside her. “I know a bit of wand lore and when I went to see Mr. Ollivander about a new wand, I was sure I knew what I wanted. I asked specifically for a holly wand with a unicorn hair core. He tutted at me and shook his head. I told him again that I knew I needed a holly wand with unicorn hair and to trust me. He laughed and went and got exactly what I asked for.” Narcissa laughed at the memory.

“It didn’t go well, I take it?”

“Ha! I took the wand out of its box and before I could even swish it, it set a chair on fire.”

“Merlin’s pants! What did Ollivander do?”

“He laughed! He put the fire out eventually but he laughed so hard. I was still insistent that I wanted holly but I would accept hazel with a unicorn hair. I was probably mere seconds from stomping my foot like a child!”

“Oh, no, did he give in again?”

Shaking her head at the memory, Narcissa answered in the affirmative. “He did! Laughing the whole time he brought me another holly and unicorn along with a few hazel wands to try. Needless to say, none of them did the trick.”

“I assume Mr. Ollivander already knew what he wanted you to try?”

“Of course, he did! That man is brilliant! He brought back two different wands, a laurel and a rowan both with dragon heartstring - which I adamantly did not want.”

“Can I ask why? What’s wrong with dragon heartstring?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong with it, it just isn’t what I wanted. Dragon heartstring is known to be extremely powerful. Each wand core has its own unique strengths; of the three that Ollivander uses, unicorn hair is extremely consistent, phoenix feathers have a great range, and dragon heartstrings have great power. I didn’t want power - I still don’t want power - but Ollivander just knew that’s what I needed. I tried the laurel wand first and nothing happened. Literally nothing happened. Not even sparks or smoke or a tipped chair. Just nothing. Then he handed me the rowan wand. I absolutely did not want it. I wasn’t seeking a rowan wand and I do my best not to show it off. But it worked. I had barely touched it when the room started glowing and cleaning itself up. I knew that it had chosen me. But I’m still not sure she chose correctly.”

“Narcissa, I don’t understand. Why? What’s different about rowan wood?”

“You know that each type of wood that’s used for wands has different lore about it, yes?” Hermione nodded at Narcissa’s questioning look. “It’s said that holly wands are paired with a witch or wizard on a spiritual quest, hazel wood works best for masters who have the ability to manage and control their feelings. Laurel wands are, according to legend, unable to perform a dishonorable act.”

“And rowan?”

“Rowan wands, they say, have never been mastered by a dark witch or wizard. They perform best with someone who is pure of heart and outshine all others when it comes to defensive charms.”

Hermione’s own heart swelled at hearing that about Narcissa.

“Well, Narcissa, then I think that should tell you something about yourself,” Hermione said quietly, looking into Narcissa’s eyes, shining with tears.

“I hope so,” she whispered back.

Hermione watched as her own hand slowly raised to Narcissa’s face and wiped away the one tear that had escaped. She leaned forward, ever so slowly, toward Narcissa. Her eyes slid closed. Crack! They jumped apart as Pepper appeared beside them.

“Pepper is sorry, Mistresses, so sorry to interrupt but there was a guest at the gates and he opened them already and he’s almost inside and Pepper thinks he looks not so nice.” Just as the little house elf finished speaking, they heard three loud bangs of the door knocker.

Pepper, eyes even wider than usual and her little hands wringing, headed to open the door to the stranger.

“Stop, Pepper, please,” Narcissa commanded, “I don’t want you to answer the door to anyone who you think looks unkind. I’d like you to be safe, first, okay?”

“Yes, Mistress Black, thank you!” Pepper skipped quickly back to Narcissa’s side and hugged the witch’s legs tightly, “Pepper can call Filly? Filly can answer?”

“Yes, that would be a good idea, Pepper, thank you,” Narcissa knelt down next to the nervous little elf. “You’re a very good house elf, Pep, even though you’re so young. You’ve been a very big help to me these last few months especially.”

Pepper’s smile rivaled the sun as she snapped away. A short moment later, Hermione heard another house elf opening the front door to Narcissa’s visitor. She didn’t have to listen hard to hear who it was, the wizard was obnoxiously loud.

“Tell the lady of the house that Vincenzius Crabbe is here to see her now.”

Hermione snapped her head around to look at Narcissa, wondering why on Earth she was being visited by a known Death Eater. Narcissa’s brows were drawn together and her head tilted.

“Why in Merlin’s name is Crabbe here and how did he get through my gates?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Hermione said quietly.

“Master Crabbe will have a seat here in the foyer and Filly will let the Lady know.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, elf. I’m the wizard!” Narcissa and Hermione heard a thump from the foyer and both women had their wands immediately drawn as they raced out to see what had happened.

“Mistress Black allows no harm to come to her house elves, Master Crabbe. If Master Crabbe tries to kick Filly again, Master Crabbe will keep falling.”

Pulling Hermione back into the sitting room, Narcissa whispered to her, “I haven't a clue why he’s here but I intend to find out. Do you want to stay here? Come out there with me? How shall we approach this?”

Lips pursed for a moment, Hermione looked at the floor intently. Nodding her head as if in agreement with herself, she looked back at Narcissa, “I’d like to go with you. He’s a known Death Eater and I’m pretty sure the Ministry’s still looking for him. Whatever his reason for being here, it isn’t altruistic and, as far as he probably knows, you’re a single woman living alone. Something doesn’t seem right.”

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Narcissa smiled a little at her future wife. “Thank you. I appreciate your logical mind,” she reached up and tapped gently on Hermione’s temple before once more stepping into the foyer.

“Crabbe,” Narcissa said by way of a greeting.

“Narcissa,” he replied, dragging out the final sound to seem friendlier, “it’s so nice to see you. How are you doing?”

“Well. Why are you in my Manor?” Her clipped questions and cold tone of voice was in stark opposition to the way Hermione had heard her speak for the last two days and she found it quite intriguing.

“Now, Narcissa, we’ve known each other a long time. Can’t an old friend stop by for a visit?”

“Certainly, an old friend can. I would have been more inclined, once upon a time, to have expected a surprise visit from your late wife than from you. We were never friends, Vincenzius.”

“Oh, Narcissa, don’t tease,” he laughed, a forced, dry, choking sound that made Hermione wish for a glass of water, “of course, we’re friends. We’ve spent the last twenty years in the same circle. I’m coming to you now as a friend. Have you heard about this latest Decree from the Ministry?”

Narrowing her eyes once more, Narcissa nodded at him to continue.

“Well, I’m a widower and you’re a divorcee, let’s put our names in together! We’re both pure-bloods who think the same way. It’s a perfect match!”

“There are so many reasons my answer to that is no, I can't even begin to list them all. Suffice it to say, I decline. Vincenzius Crabbe, I will absolutely not marry you.”

“Ha! You think you can say no to me, Narcissa? Who do you think you are? I have information on you the Ministry would love to get their hands on. You spent over a year sheltering the Dark Lord. You don’t really have a choice here, lady, and you know it,” he stepped forward, intending to intimidate. Hermione also stepped forward, intending to protect.

“I know precisely who I am, Vincenzius. The youngest daughter of Cygnus Black the third, who was himself a proud member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black; I’m sure you remember what it’s like to cross a member of the House of Black, don’t you? In case that reminder isn’t enough for you, yes, I housed Voldemort and his most trusted lieutenants for over a year. Yet never was I forced to take the Mark myself. Didn’t you wonder why that was? Other women took the Mark - your own wife pledged her loyalty to Voldemort. Yet I was able to reject it. I watched as people were tortured. I cared for them and nursed them back to health and, when I couldn’t help them enough, do you have any idea what I did? No. Because you just sat at the table and did his lowest bidding. But the Ministry? They do know what I did. I submitted myself directly to Kingsley Shacklebolt in June and willingly took veritaserum to recount precisely what happened at Malfoy Manor. I gave a detailed account of who was there, when they visited, and what they did. I don’t know why you haven’t been arrested yet, but I wouldn’t hold hope that you’re going to be free much longer.”

Her hand firmly on the small of Narcissa’s back, Hermione could feel the other woman’s muscles were so tight they probably hurt. Hermione spoke up, “I would’ve thought attempting to murder a sixteen year-old was enough to imprison you for a while, Crabbe.”

“Mudblood! You dare speak to me!”

Brandishing her wand directly at his face, Narcissa warned him, “I don’t allow such talk in my house, Crabbe. You will leave. Never return here. And never speak to my fiancée again.”

Behind Crabbe, Pepper and Filly snapped their fingers. The door swung open and the offensive wizard was deposited outside on the front stair where he looked up to see the door slam shut in his face.

No one inside moved. Narcissa was standing with her left arm wrapped tightly around her middle, still facing the closed door. Hermione had her hand still pressed to Narcissa’s back and could feel the shaky breathing of the other woman. Pepper and Filly were watching the witches intently to see if they needed anything and to make sure the nasty man didn’t try to come back in.

After a few tense moments, Hermione stepped slowly into Narcissa’s personal space. Carefully her left arm wound around the other woman’s back and Hermione tilted her head to try to catch Narcissa’s eye. It worked a bit as Narcissa turned her head toward Hermione before the tears started and she pressed her hand to her mouth.

“I said too much. I got too angry and gave away a lot of information that just put us all at risk. What was I thinking?”

Hermione’s eyes closed in understanding and she pulled Narcissa’s body into her own to hug the other woman as tightly as she dared. Narcissa hid her face in Hermione’s long hair and circled her arms around Hermione’s waist, grateful for the support and the physical contact - both unfelt in her life for so long. Pepper and Filly looked slyly at one another and silently disappeared.

Once Narcissa’s breathing had evened out and it seemed that she was no longer crying, Hermione spoke up once more, “Narcissa?”

“Hmm?”

“I came over planning to go to Hogsmeade for lunch with you but I have a different idea. What do you say, do you trust me?” Narcissa simply nodded, face still pressed to Hermione’s neck.

“Good, we’re going to Apparate to my flat. You don’t need anything but yourself - and your wand, of course. Let’s go,” Hermione smiled and stepped back.

Grasping Hermione’s biceps, Narcissa looked down into the younger woman’s face, “Thank you, Hermione. You’ve no idea how rare it is for me to find comfort with another human being. I appreciate your kindnesses.” Clearing her throat and stepping back, Narcissa continued, “I need to do one thing before we leave, okay?” At Hermione’s nod, Narcissa called Pepper and Filly back. She knelt down and thanked them both for their protection. “I confess, Filly, I’ve never taken the time to understand the gates here at Black Manor. How is it that Crabbe was able to come right in?”

“Oh, Mistress Black, two Lady Blacks ago, the gates were unlocked to all pureblood families. Anyone with pure wizarding blood can enter the grounds through the gates.”

“Oh my,” Narcissa practically clutched her pearls, “And here I thought this was the safest place for us to stay!”

“Mistress, as long as Pepper and Filly are here, Mistress and Master are safe. Pepper and Filly know when the gates are breached by anything,” Pepper squeaked.

“Hmm, still. I’d like the gates to be a bit more discerning. How can we fix this?” Narcissa turned and looked up at Hermione, eyebrows raised.

Hermione shrugged, she had no experience with wizarding manors and gates!

“Filly can fix it, Mistress,” the house elf said gravely, “Filly needs Kreacher, though, and Moonbeam. Filly and Kreacher and Moonbeam can fix it together. The only ones left serving the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. All others are gone.”

“Pepper can fix! Pepper serves!” the little elf spoke up indignantly.

“Yes,” Filly was quite patient with his little sidekick, “Pepper serves. Pepper is new. This must be done by elves who were here the first time. Pepper can watch and learn.”

She tugged one of her sadly drooping ears and nodded her agreement as she followed Filly back to the kitchen.

“Can it be done today, Filly? If I owl Andromeda and Harry about Kreacher and Moonbeam can the gates be closed to all others but Draco, Hermione, and myself today?”

“Yes, Mistress Black. Owl right away. Filly will show Pepper the preparations and when Kreacher and Moonbeam arrive it will be done. Pepper will tell Mistress Black when it is complete.”

Narcissa nodded and turned back to Hermione with a smirk on her face once more.

“Come, I’ll show you how we call our owls,” Narcissa held her hand out to Hermione.

Entwining their fingers, Hermione joined the other woman and, unable to contain her curiosity, had to ask about the smile.

“I simply think it’s adorable the way Filly treats Pep. She can’t help with whatever they’re going to do to fix the gates but he’s including her in the preparations and he’ll send her to let us know when it’s complete.”

The women entered a small room located in the back of the manor near the kitchen. In any other house, Hermione would’ve called it a mudroom but she couldn’t imagine anyone tracking mud into Black Manor. Narcissa slid open a window and carefully pulled a cord twice, ringing a bell. After the reverberation stopped, she repeated the action before reaching to the other side of the window and doing the same with a second bell - though the pitch was much deeper. Moments later a petite Tawny owl landed on a little platform outside the window followed quickly by a very large Eagle owl.

“Oh! Is this the little owl that came to my apartment this morning?” When Narcissa nodded, Hermione continued, “And isn’t that Draco’s owl? Ulysses, I think?”

“Quite right,” Narcissa chuckled. Turning back to the owls, she spoke a little to Ulysses and got him a few owl treats out of the nearby cabinet. “Here you go, Ulysses. You’re always so quick to answer.” The raptor stalled and tentatively reached his leg out, looking for a mission. “Yes, let me write a quick note to Andromeda and then you’ll deliver to her, okay?” Hearing he would be sent with a letter, Ulysses puffed his chest out and took the treats from Narcissa’s hand. She sat at a small desk in the corner, already stocked with parchment, quills, ink, and sealing supplies to write a letter asking her sister if her house elf, Moonbeam, could come by the Manor. Once she had finished and the big owl was off, Narcissa stretched her arm out the window and spoke quietly, “Hello, little Paionia. Come inside and meet Hermione before I ask you for another delivery.” The owl hopped onto Narcissa’s forearm and ducked her head as she was brought into the manor.

Hooting softly, Paionia tilted her head back and forth as she looked at Hermione. “Well, Harry was right, wasn’t he? You are a gorgeous girl,” Hermione complimented the owl.

“Isn’t she? She’s a Tawny but I’ve never seen a fully grown Tawny as small as my little Paionia. She’s a brilliant owl, she’s never failed to deliver a letter or parcel and if I need a response she always brings one back with her.” Narcissa carefully pulled her arm closer to her body so she could gently scratch behind the owl’s ears. Paionia immediately tucked her head under Narcissa’s chin and chirped. Hermione smiled indulgently, she doubted Narcissa had any idea how much she sounded like a proud mum at that moment.

“Very smart girl you have there,” Hermione complimented, “and very affectionate.”

“Mmm, she wasn’t always,” Narcissa took a deep breath and looked right in Hermione’s eyes, “but I released her from service last year and it saved her life and the lives of her owlets. The day Draco and I moved in here, Paionia showed up with all three owlets from her clutch, Aruncus, Amsonia, and Astilbe. She’s been very affectionate since then.” Narcissa gently rubbed her cheek on Paionia’s head before setting the owl on the window sill. “I’m going to write to Harry Potter and I do need a response. We might be at Hermione’s flat, oh! Don’t you live with Harry? I needn’t write him, then,” Narcissa laughed.

“He isn’t home today. He went with a friend to look at new owls so a letter would be fine.”

Nodding, Narcissa sat and quickly penned a letter asking Harry if Kreacher could join Filly and Moonbeam. She had no doubt that Harry would say yes, he was quite kind and generous after all. Narcissa signed and sealed the letter before attaching it to Paionia, “There you go, pretty girl. Please deliver that directly to Harry Potter. Wait for a response if you are able but, most importantly, be safe at all times.” She gave the little bird a few treats and then she was off soaring across the gray sky.

“I do feel guilty sending her off in the coming rain,” Narcissa said with a little shiver as she closed the window.

“She’s headed to Hagrid’s to meet Harry, I’m sure if the weather is poor, Hagrid will keep her inside for a while. He’s never met a creature he doesn’t love,” Hermione chuckled.

“Except my son,” Narcissa had pulled herself up to her full height and turned abruptly to face the younger woman.

“I’m sorry? What did Hagrid ever do to Draco except introduce him to some magnificent magical creatures?”

“You’re joking. You must be,” Narcissa breathed out a fake laugh as she blew past Hermione on her way out of the cozy little space they had been sharing, “no one in their right mind would introduce a bunch of third years to a hippogriff and expect it to be perfectly safe. If I had known Rubeus Hagrid was the friend Harry was meeting I never would have let Paionia go there.”

“Rubeus Hagrid is one of the kindest people I’ve ever been lucky enough to know! When your son was tormenting me, I could always count on Hagrid to offer some tea and a quiet place to study. When your Master, Voldemort, was killing unicorns in the Forbidden Forest it was Hagrid, night after night, searching him out and saving an entire herd of one of the most magical creatures in the world. Hagrid taught us perfectly well how to introduce ourselves to hippogriffs, obviously, since no one else was injured or even startled by one. Only Draco, who insisted on rudely insulting a beautiful creature, had any kind of conflict. That’s on Draco, not Hagrid.”

“You blame a thirteen year old child for the lack of supervision? I’m sure if your precious Harry had been the one mauled by that beast you’d tell a different story!”

“I wouldn’t have to. Harry would never have behaved the way Draco did!” Hermione’s hands were clenched and her face was red. She spun quickly away from Narcissa when she felt tears forming in her eyes. Breathing deeply, Hermione spoke again, without shouting, “Narcissa, you don’t understand. Harry and Hagrid had a close relationship before Harry even started at Hogwarts and it annoyed Draco. On top of that, Draco very vocally objected to being educated by Hagrid even though Hagrid is the most knowledgeable person around when it comes to magical creatures and their care. To make matters worse that day, Hagrid gets a hippogriff for our very first class and what happens? It bows to Harry Potter. Draco’s nemesis. So Draco, because he’s very smart and very cunning, plotted quickly with Crabbe and Goyle to disrupt and ruin Hagrid’s classes as much as possible and that started with Draco insulting Buckbeak and then claiming his arm was barely functional.”

“The creature attacked my son,” Narcissa ground out in the same tone she had used with Crabbe earlier.

“Your son attacked the creature first and then lied. Did you even see his arm?” Hermione nearly shouted.

Narcissa hesitated and before she could answer the witches heard the front door open and close.

“Mother? Are you home?” Draco called from the foyer.

Narcissa stepped around Hermione, giving her a wide berth, and walked quickly to her son.

“Yes Draco, what is it?”

“Oh, nothing, really. There’s supposed to be a terrible storm today, they’re saying, and I wanted to make sure you were home safe.”

Hermione interrupted the conversation, too irritated with everyone to wait any longer, “Draco, did you ever show your mother what Buckbeak did to you?”

Draco’s head tilted to the right and his face scrunched up in confusion. “Who’s Buckbeak?” he laughed.

“The hippogriff from Hagrid’s class,” Hermione answered with almost no inflection.

“Oh, my gosh, I haven't thought of that in years!” Draco laughed, “I don’t know if I ever showed her. Mother, did I? There wasn’t really much to show!”

“No. You didn’t. You showed your father.”

“Oh, did I? I don’t even remember anymore.”

“Well, think harder,” Hermione spat out, “I mean you did almost cause Buckbeak’s death and cost Hagrid his job. On purpose. The least you could do is remember the details.” Hermione’s hands were on her hips.

“Wow, yeah, Hermione. I guess I did. Pretty stupid of me, actually. I was being a right git. Glad I get on with Hagrid now, he’s been a big help this summer as I was researching some laws about magical creatures in Britain.”

“So, you freely admit that neither Hagrid nor Buckbeak did anything unexpected or intentionally harmful to you despite the claims you made at the time?”

“Uh,” Draco’s mouth dropped open and he looked back and forth between his mother and Hermione. “Yes?” A pause. “I mean, yes,” he said more confidently, “I freely admit that I was kind of a prat in school sometimes and I didn’t follow the logical course of my actions to see that they could lead to Buckbeak’s death. I am sorry for goading the hippogriff and plotting against Hagrid.” Hermione turned to Narcissa and smirked nastily. Draco spoke again, “Though I have to say, it was perhaps a little shortsighted to bring fully grown hippogriffs to a class of inexperienced third years. What happened to my arm was my own fault for baiting Buckbeak but, truly, Hermione, no teacher should have allowed that situation to occur. Would you have introduced hippogriffs without any background information at all? Or does that, also, seem a bit foolhardy?”

Narcissa smirked back at Hermione, arms folded across her chest.

“Yes, okay, you’re right. Hagrid should have done a lesson on them first before just throwing us all together,” Hermione admitted quietly.

“However, that doesn’t mean you should have been plotting against a professor, no matter who he was. Draco, I must say, I’m a bit piqued by your admittance. You lied to me then, along with your father and led me to believe that you had done nothing wrong and this,” she turned to Hermione, “Buckbeack, was it?” Hermione nodded. “Buckbeak attacked you from beside Hagrid himself. I encouraged your father to go after Hagrid’s job at Hogwarts.”

Redfaced and looking down, Draco scuffed his toe along the floor, “I apologize, Mum. I was feeling jealous of Harry, as usual, and trying to impress Father. I thought it was a good scheme to upset Potter and make Dad happy to throw his weight around. I also got a bit of attention out of it.”

“I accept your apology,” Narcissa nodded at her son but stepped around him and made her way into the kitchen. She used her wand to fill a kettle with water and placed it on the stovetop.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe in the storm that’s coming through today. I’m going up to Scotland to spend the day in Hogsmeade, I’m not sure if I’ll be home tonight,” Draco said quietly.

Narcissa hummed a quiet reply and nodded without looking back at her son.

After a few quiet minutes standing in the doorway and watching Narcissa, Hermione made her way across the room to lean on the counter next to where the other woman was standing.

“Narcissa?”

“Yes, Miss Granger,” Narcissa sounded tired.

“I’m very sorry for getting so argumentative. I’m working on disagreeing with others without lashing out. Seems I still have some work to do in that area, hmm?”

“No, dear, you didn’t. Not really.” Narcissa reached out and placed her hand on Hermione’s forearm, looking at the younger woman, “There were a few well-placed jabs at first but you were very articulate and focused. I’m just upset because I didn’t even know I’d been lied to about that until today.”

Silence fell once more as the women waited for the kettle to whistle. Suddenly, Hermione turned the stove off.

“Nope. I had a plan before our conversation turned sour and we’re going to do it. I’ll make you tea at my flat. Do you still want to come with me?” Hermione turned to fully face the other woman, eyebrows raised.

Smiling now, Narcissa agreed.

They quickly made their way outside and rushed toward the gates, hoping to get to Hermione’s before the storm started. Just before Narcissa pulled out her wand they were startled by a flash of lightning and nearly a simultaneous clap of thunder.

“Let’s just hope we can avoid…” Hermione paused as the sky opened and buckets of water started pouring down, “the rain.”

Narcissa immediately giggled, “No need to rush now, I see.”

Looking at Narcissa’s grin, Hermione couldn’t help but join the laughter. She shrugged as Narcissa waved the gates open and closed them after they stepped through. “Okay, I’ll Apparate us there, I just need to focus,” Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. She began muttering to herself, “I am determined to reach my destination without haste but with determination. I am determined to reach my destination without haste but with determination. I am deter-” Hermione’s eyes popped open. “Narcissa, you have to hold on!”

Narcissa was staring wide-eyed at Hermione and cautiously stepped forward, grasping Hermione’s outstretched arm tightly. Muttering more quietly, Hermione continued, “without haste but determination.”

She pivoted tightly on the spot and the women disappeared together, popping onto the stoop of Hermione and Harry’s flat only moments later. Narcissa let out a great sigh.

“What was that for?”

“I wasn’t sure you were going to get us here? You have Apparated before haven’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione turned toward the door, pinching the thin ring she wore on her forefinger causing it to transfigure into a key for the front door.

Following Hermione, Narcissa stumbled over her words, “I still - I’m not - okay...First, that was a brilliant little bit of magic you just did there.” Hermione, blushing, reached around Narcissa and closed the door behind them. Both women absently pulled out their wands and quickly used the hot-air charm to dry out their clothes and hair from the rain.

“Thank you,” Hermione answered finally, “I had used the Colloportus charm to lock the door but we were being frequently faced with an uninvited visitor so I decided to use the muggle lock and key instead. Accio key,” she flashed her wand and caught a small gold tinted key in midair as it came flying toward her from the kitchen.

Hermione reached toward Narcissa, her palm open, the key flat on top. “What is this?” Narcissa asked.

“This is the key to my flat. I can use the same transfiguration to turn it into, say, a bracelet for you? Mine stays a ring until I’m standing on the stoop and pinch it between my thumb and forefinger, then it turns back into the key until I let go again.”

Narcissa stared at the key; blinking she glanced up at Hermione’s pink cheeks and back down at the key.

“You’re giving me access to your flat?”

Tilting her head, Hermione answered, “Mmhmm.”

“To come in as I please?”

“Mmhmm.”

“But, Hermione, you’ve only known me for two days.”

“And didn’t you just give me access to your Manor to come in as I please?”

“Well, yes, but, we’re different,” it was Narcissa’s turn for her cheeks to turn pink and her eyes to dart away.

Curling her fingers back around the key, Hermione pulled her hand into her chest. After a long moment of silence, she spoke quietly to the older woman, “Narcissa? We’ve known each other for years but not truly known a single thing about one another past surface judgements and stereotypes until two days ago. And yet, I trust you. I’ve seen you with your child. I’ve seen you with your great nephew. I’ve seen you with your house elves. I’ve seen how you treat waiters. I’ve seen your discomfort at being around the public and your fear at being out in the dark. I definitely don’t know every single thing about you but I’m interested in learning more. And from what I know? I trust you. I trust you to have the key to my flat and to use it when you want or need to. I trust you to light the spark of revolution with me. I trust you to marry me, Narcissa.” Hermione held the key out again, in her left palm, this time tapping it twice with her wand and silently transfiguring it into a thin silver ring.

Narcissa, with a shaky breath, carefully picked the ring up with her right thumb and index finger and then, grasping Hermione with both hands, pulled the other woman’s arms around her and hugged Hermione tightly.

“You may never understand the gift you just gave me, Gryffindor. You are so brave,” Narcissa’s voice was tight and she swallowed hard. Hermione squeezed tighter and was content to hold the other woman’s body against her own as long as Narcissa needed it.

After a long moment of quiet breathing sharing space, Hermione spoke quietly, “If you think that was a gift, get read, Slytherin. I have such a good plan for today.”

Narcissa could hear the smile in Hermione’s voice and stepped out of the embrace, trying to subtly wipe her eyes. “Oh, do you?”

“I do! But first, you wanted tea?”

She really is quite thoughtful. “You remembered? Yes, I would love a cup of tea.”

Gesturing dramatically, Hermione led the way to the kitchen and quickly prepared a tray of tea and biscuits.

“Okay, follow me!” She led Narcissa back towards the front of the flat to go upstairs. Floating the tray in front of her, Hermione opened the door to her rooms and invited Narcissa inside.

Curious, Narcissa looked around at the shelves of books and photographs - mostly muggle pictures it seemed. Picking one up, Narcissa turned to Hermione with a huge smile on her face, “Is this you?” Hermione glanced at the picture of herself wearing dungarees with pigtails and a messy face grinning at the camera from between her parents. “Yes, with my parents.”

“Absolutely adorable,” Narcissa murmured, tracing her finger quickly across the glass before setting the frame back on the shelf. “So, what’s the next part of your plan?”

Hermione bit her lip and clasped her hands together, “I know that I’ve said I trust you but, do you trust me? This might seem a bit silly now I think about it,” she blushed once more.

Reaching out and stepping quickly to the younger woman, Narcissa put her mind at ease, “I trust you, Hermione. I’m here. I’m marrying you. I trust you.”

“Okay,” Hermione turned to her dresser and quickly opened and closed a few drawers pulling things out. Turning back, she handed Narcissa a pile of articles and pointed to a door across the room, “That’s my bathroom. You can change in there. Put these on, okay?”

Narcissa didn’t hesitate or argue for even a moment. She could sense that Hermione was feeling quite nervous and needed the support at the moment. When she got into the bathroom and actually looked at what she was holding, however, she questioned her blind faith in the younger woman. What in Merlin’s name? Are these cupcakes? Who wears socks like this?

While changing her clothing, Narcissa could hear Hermione doing something in the bedroom just outside the door. Wanting to give the Gryffindor time to finish her preparations, Narcissa checked her hair and face in the mirror in front of her along with the outfit she had put on. Thick, soft, tartan pants, fluffy blue socks with pink cupcakes on them, and a white jumper with a hood that proclaimed “Atlanta 1996” with interlocking multi-colored rings on it over a soft gray t-shirt that simply had a check mark on the left breast. The entire ensemble left her feeling decidedly underdressed but unusually comfortable. Narcissa folded the clothing she had worn and left it on the hamper, unsure of where else to place it. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped back into Hermione’s room in time to see the younger woman pull a clean t-shirt down over her head and cover the smooth skin of her back.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I thought you were done,” Narcissa said quietly, still watching.

“Quite alright, Narcissa. I’m ready! Come over here and see what I’ve done,” Hermione was glowing. She had quickly transfigured the furniture in her room into a comfy lounge set up. A large, overstuffed loveseat with a plethora of throw pillows faced a coffee table which was holding their tea. On the other side of the table, Narcissa saw a large black mirror.

“What is that?” She asked, pointing as she walked over.

Hermione took Narcissa’s hand and pulled her onto the loveseat beside her, “That’s a television. Have you never seen one? Or gone to the cinema?”

“No, never. Those are strictly muggle activities!”

“Well, I’m a muggle-born, so I’ve done both and I have a television. I thought maybe we could introduce you to some of my favorite tv shows or movies today? Or maybe a video game or two? That’s an interactive game you play with a controller in your hand and the game is on the tv screen.”

“I’ve never had the opportunity to see any muggle inventions! Please, show me the tell-o-vision!”

“Great! This is called the remote,” Hermione stopped rather abruptly.

“What is it? Have I done it wrong? Do I have to press the remote as well?”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’ve just...I realize I have a tendency to, um, to explain things too much? I over-explain and it sometimes makes people feel as though I think they’re stupid. I don’t want that to happen with you. I don’t think you’re stupid, Narcissa, okay?” Hermione’s eyes were filling with tears.

“Hey, I don’t feel stupid,” Narcissa soothed Hermione, gently cupping the younger woman’s cheek. “I love that you’re explaining this all to me. If I ever feel like you’re being unintentionally condescending, I promise to let you know right away and I will do my best not to get mad about it.” Narcissa raised her eyebrows in question.

Nodding with just one quick sniffle, Hermione continued, “Okay, so, I was saying, this is the remote control. You use it to turn the tv on, here you go, press the red button that says power. You can also use it to change the channel. Channels are sorted by number and each channel has its own shows. You also use the remote to adjust the volume.”

“What are some shows you watch?”

“Well, I used to watch silly kid shows but we could watch Coronation St? It’s a serial so it’s a new hour every day that follows the lives of fictional people in a fictional community. Or we could watch Midsomer Murders...kind of the same thing but murdery.”

“Either is fine! This is so interesting!”

Hermione chuckled a little and put on the channel showing Midsomer Murders. The women caught it just in time to start the new episode. As the hour wore on, they sank more comfortable into the loveseat until Hermione realized they were pressed up against one another from shoulder to knee. Feeling a little stiff, Hermione stretched her legs out to rest on the coffee table in front of them and reached her arm around the back of the loveseat...and Narcissa, who was oblivious to Hermione as she remained focused on the tv. The episode wrapped up and Narcissa waited patiently for the next one to start. She was quite confused when a Newsdesk appeared.

“What happened to Inspector Barnaby?”

“Mm, the episode ended. Now it’s mid-day news for a little while. Let’s listen, see what’s happening in the muggle world.” Hermione’s mind could only stay focused for a few minutes, however, before she was asleep. Narcissa only lasted longer because it was a new experience but, after fifteen minutes, she, too, was falling asleep in front of the television...like any muggle would do.

An hour later, Hermione slowly rose to consciousness feeling an unusual weight against her left side. Cracking one eye open, she saw that distinctive blonde and black hair and remembered just closing her eyes for a moment during a commercial break. More awake, Hermione really looked down at Narcissa and realized the woman had turned on her side and was pressed completely into Hermione, her head resting on Hermione’s shoulder and her legs across Hermione’s on the table. Enjoying the closeness of the other body, Hermione wrapped her left arm more securely around Narcissa and snuggled closer to the other witch. Narcissa murmured back and reached her left arm across Hermione’s torso to pull the younger woman closer to herself as well.

It was the best afternoon Hermione could remember in a long, long time.


	4. A Wedding to Plan

Hermione had always been a light sleeper and was roused by the sound of the front door closing. She listened closely, trying to discern if Harry had someone with him. It was late afternoon, so he’d likely seen Hagrid and made a plan to find a new owl. She could hear the quiet tones of conversation and the kitchen door creaked open but then she heard footsteps on the stairs.  
  
Harry’s voice echoed up the stairwell, “Hey! You may not enter Hermione’s rooms without her permission, Ron!”  
  
“I just need to use the loo, mate, I’ll only be a minute.”  
  
Hermione’s wand was within reach and she only had a moment to decide. Lock the door or let him see? Hermione didn’t move other than to point her wand at the doorway and wait for Ron to appear. As she expected, he took two steps into the room before he noticed them and froze, eyes wide. Hermione wasn’t sure if his eyes were bugging because of the two of them snuggling on the couch in pyjamas or her wand pointed directly at his face; at that point, however, she wasn’t sure she really cared, either.  
  
As quietly as she could, Hermione spoke, “Get out, Ronald.” It stirred Narcissa a bit and she started to awaken.  
  
Ron’s face went very, very red just before he shouted, “What the bloody hell is this?”  
  
Narcissa jumped in fright at being startled out of sleep and Hermione cast a quick Silencio on Ron. “Get out, Ronald,” she said again before turning to look at the other woman who had pushed herself back into the corner of the little couch they were on. Narcissa’s eyes were darting around and her pupils extremely dilated. Is she having a panic attack? Hearing Ron’s feet move heavily toward her as Harry charged up the stairs, Hermione stood quickly between her fiancée and her old friends.  
  
“I’m going to say this once more. Get. Out.”  
  
Still under the silencing charm, Ron reached for Hermione's wand instead. Harry stood frozen at the door, shocked at what Ron was doing.  
  
“Petrificus Totalus,” Hermione said angrily, watching Ron’s body drop to the floor. “I know you can hear me, Ronald. Listen well. You and I are not a couple. I have told you that repeatedly for months. I am not marrying you. I told you that two days ago when the Ministry announced this ridiculous decree. I will never have this discussion with you again. I am marrying Narcissa Black. That is not up for debate. I will not be joining your family for dinner any time soon to discuss any weddings at all as I’m sure Narcissa and I will be perfectly capable of planning our own. I’m going to end the spells I’ve cast. You’re going to get up silently, leave my room silently, and not contact me again until I’ve contacted you first. If you don’t follow those requests, I will not hesitate to hex you. I’m sure we all remember that I’m quicker with a wand than you, Ron. Don’t test me.” Hermione waited a long moment, looking at Harry to make sure he, too, had his wand out. “Finite incantatem.”  
  
“C’mon, Ron, let’s go,” Harry said, reaching his hand out to help his first friend up. Ron, still red-faced, opened his mouth as he stood but Harry spoke again, “I wouldn’t. Let’s just go.” Harry tugged Ron toward the door. “Don’t speak, mate. She’s going to hex you and it’ll be your fault. Just go downstairs, I’ll be right there.” Harry turned back to Hermione and Narcissa. The former was standing in the same spot, wand still aloft and ready for danger; the latter had pulled her knees up in front of herself and rested her forehead against them. Harry quietly apologized and promised not to allow Ron back to the flat until the situation was resolved. Before he softly shut the door, he gestured for Hermione to look at Narcissa, who had still not raised her head.

Hermione turned quickly, forgetting about Ron and Harry immediately. She didn’t want to further startle the other woman, “Narcissa? I’m going to kneel down next to you, okay? Can you look at me?”  
  
Narcissa, sniffling a bit, slowly raised her head and did as Hermione asked. Carefully, Hermione raised her hand and brushed a few tears off Narcissa’s cheek. “You’re okay,” she whispered, “I’m sorry today has been so trying. First Crabbe at the door, then I fought with you about Hagrid, then Ron scared us both to death shouting like a fool.” She tucked a bit of blonde hair behind Narcissa’s ear as the woman laid her head back on her own knees, this time looking at Hermione. “Can I sit with you again?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Of course, it’s your furniture,” Narcissa answered drily.  
  
“Hmm, well, that’s technically true but, as you’re the one sitting on it now I’ll allow you to decide. May I sit with you, Narcissa?” Hermione stood awaiting an answer.  
  
A small smile gracing her lips, Narcissa answered, “I’d like that.”  
  
Hermione sat primly for a moment, back up straight, feet on the floor. She huffed a great sigh and shook her head, “Ugh. I was quite comfortable before that twit came barging in.” Hermione wiggled her way back into the comfy corner of the plush loveseat, put her feet back on the table, and her left arm across the backrest once more.  
  
“I was, too,” Narcissa admitted in a tiny voice.  
  
“Then come back,” Hermione offered, just as quietly. She was very pleased when the other woman listened. Once they were settled together again, Narcissa’s hand slowly sliding across Hermione’s torso to rest on her hip and Hermione’s fingers running gently through Narcissa’s hair, Hermione spoke kindly, “Narcissa, do you want to talk about what just happened?”  
  
She felt the puff of air as Narcissa blew it out. “Not really but I suppose I should explain a bit.”  
  
Hearing the tension in the other woman’s voice, Hermione rested her hand on Narcissa’s arm and held her other arm around Narcissa, too. “You do not have to share anything you don’t want to. I just thought you seemed very upset and I want to help. I don’t want to cause you pain or stress.”  
  
“Oh, Hermione, no,” Narcissa said, pushing up to look Hermione in the eyes. “I lived with the Dark Lord - sorry. I lived with Voldemort for more than a year. Being startled out of sleep by someone shouting nearby is likely always going to cause a panicked response. In the past, that often meant pain, torture, and death were likely to follow for someone in my house. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Narcissa leaned her head back down on Hermione’s shoulder and rested against her again. “And don’t think I didn’t notice how you immediately stood between Mr. Weasley and myself. Is Harry’s Hero Complex catching?”  
  
Blushing, Hermione realized that’s exactly what she did. “Apparently,” she smirked.  
  
Squeezing the body next to her tightly, Narcissa said, “Well, I’m grateful for it.”  
  
Without thinking, Hermione pressed her lips to Narcissa’s forehead. “You know, there were a few things I wanted to talk to you about today over lunch. Are you hungry? Shall we go to lunch?”  
  
“No, I’m comfortable here. If you’re hungry, though, we can go find something,” Narcissa replied, snuggling back into Hermione’s arms.  
  
“Not yet. Soon, though.”  
  
The witches fell silent for a few moments while Hermione arranged her thoughts and Narcissa waited, thinking about the questions she also had for the younger woman. “I wanted your opinion on my education, actually. I, technically, dropped out of Hogwarts and I never took my NEWTs.”  
  
Gasping, Narcissa popped up, “Hermione, you must! You’re the brightest witch of the age! Everyone says so!”  
  
Smiling, red-cheeked again, Hermione looked away before thanking Narcissa and tugging the woman back into her arms. “I want to take them. The problem is that I don’t really want to go back to Hogwarts for another year. I mean, I know I missed the start of term this week but, I’m sure if I asked, McGonagall would allow me to come back regardless. I just honestly can’t imagine living in a school like that again and wearing school robes and sharing a dormitory with all the other girls and meals in the Great Hall. It was amazing. Absolutely amazing and I’m grateful for the experience and opportunity and all that I learned there. I just don’t think it’s something I can repeat at this point in my life.”  
  
“You don’t have to. Being a student at Hogwarts is not a requirement for NEWTs, Hermione. You can study for them and take them whenever you wish. There’s a good chance you possess enough skill to take some of them already. Charms for one, I’m sure you would pass with an Outstanding at this point. How many did you wish to take?”  
  
“Well, I was taking seven NEWT classes during my sixth year but I wanted eight. I couldn’t take the eight class because I was part of the group of students who broke into the Ministry and fought your husband - ”  
  
“Ex-husband.”  
  
“ - ex-husband and your sister and we inadvertently spilled the sands of time and caught all of Britain’s existing Time Turners in an unending loop so I could no longer use one to take all of the classes I wanted.”  
  
Narcissa was perfectly still. That was a lot of information.  
  
“Let me get this all straight. You were able to be such an exceptional student because you were using a Time Turner?”  
  
“Well, the inverse, actually; I was allowed to use a Time Turner because I was such an exceptional student. I did have to go through a lengthy interview process and a psychological assessment to be sure I wouldn’t abuse the privilege.”  
  
“And you broke into the Ministry of Magic?”  
  
“I did. But it was for...a really...good reason?”  
  
“And you fought adult Death Eaters, some extremely talented, and somehow survived and caused their capture?”  
  
“Yes. A dozen Death Eaters were there that night. It was a terrible battle, Narcissa. I thought we were all going to die - I almost bled out and Harry’s godfather didn’t survive. The Death Eaters were ruthless, of course. They used curses and spells I’d never heard of before nor have I seen some of them since. I still don’t know what that spell was Dolohov used on me.”  
  
“Hermione?”  
  
‘Hmm?”  
  
“I...well, I don’t really know what you’re talking about,” Narcissa said in a small voice, confused at why she couldn’t remember hearing of such a battle.  
  
“Really? The Battle of the Department of Mysteries? It’s probably when Voldemort started staying at Malfoy Manor. It’s the night Lucius was arrested and put pretty much directly into Azkaban.”  
  
A shiver ran through Narcissa’s body. “Voldemort was at the Manor before his return was common knowledge. He and Bella were there all the time. I remember they spent a lot of time using the Floo network to communicate, which I thought unusual for the Dark Lord. He was usually far more dramatic. I think I remember him showing up one night, late, very disheveled, with Bella following behind him filled with apologies. They banished me to my rooms and I was locked inside nearly all the time after that. House elves would bring food. I was mostly a prisoner until I was docile enough to be let out again without argument.”  
  
“For how long?”  
  
“I don’t know, honestly. A few weeks maybe? Could’ve been a month or more. I know it was still summer when I came out and I was devastated to see the Dark Mark upon my child. Truly devastated, Hermione. I found out he had been tasked with the assassination of Albus Dumbledore and I knew it was punishment for something Lucius had done wrong. I don’t recall him going to Azkaban, though. I went to Snape that summer and forced him to make an Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco in his mission...I was only able to leave because Bellatrix accompanied me, though.”  
  
“Narcissa, I think…”  
  
“What, Hermione?”  
  
“I think something’s wrong with your memory. You were seen all over that summer. You and Draco went to Lucius’ trial, I saw your picture in the Daily Prophet myself. And you took Draco shopping before school started, we saw each other at Madam Malkins - we had words.”  
  
“No,” Narcissa sat up, aghast. “I’d remember!’  
  
“Narcissa, we did. I remember every moment of it! You taunted Harry about Sirius’ death. You let Draco call me a mudblood...you called me scum.”  
  
“Oh, Hermione, I’m so sorry that happened but I swear it wasn’t me. I’ll take veritaserum if you want. I truly wasn’t allowed out of the manor and certainly not for something like shopping.”  
  
Hermione was actually relieved. She believed Narcissa, no need for truth serum. “Narcissa, I’m so glad that wasn’t you. Though, it is somewhat disturbing that someone staying at your manor likely used Polyjuice Potion to pretend to be you and take your son shopping. Whoever it was also knew Sirius was Harry’s godfather and that he had died - they basically said that Harry was going to die soon, too.”  
  
“Hmm,” Narcissa hummed in contemplation, her head finding it’s spot back on Hermione’s shoulder, “I wonder if it could actually have been Lucius himself. I don’t remember him going to Azkaban. If he did, he was back at the Manor by the time Draco left for school because I distinctly remember him there in the fall. If my mannerisms and speech patterns were done well, it would have to be Lucius or Bellatrix, I doubt anyone else could play act me well enough to fool people. It must have been Bella. I doubt Lucius could have handled being a woman for any length of time.”  
  
After a few quiet minutes of contemplation, Hermione chuckled.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just funny that this conversation started with me seeking your advice about NEWTs and ended with us trying to figure out who was imitating you by using Polyjuice Potion and wiping your memory of major events.”  
  
“Oh. Actually, I was back to thinking about your NEWTs.”  
  
“Really? Why?”  
  
“Because, dear, Bellatrix and Voldemort are dead. The Death Eaters left behind are being rounded up and tried by the Wizengamot. I don’t have to focus on them anymore. I am safe. My son is safe. We survived.”  
  
Nodding, Hermione hugged the other woman a little tighter for a moment and hummed in agreement.  
  
“I think you should owl McGonagall today and tell her you plan to take all your NEWTs this year. Ask her what she thinks about having correspondence with the professors for questions and communication about your subjects. I would also recommend asking if you might go to the castle a few times a month to meet with professors to discuss the topics in person to make sure you're staying focused on the right paths. That way it doesn’t have to be anything formal so if, say, herbology is going swimmingly you needn’t meet with Pomona Sprout but when you get to those complicated permanent charms you have the opportunity to work directly with Flitwick.”  
  
“Narcissa! That’s perfect! I’ll owl her as soon as we get up.”  
  
“I can move, Hermione. You can do it now,” Narcissa started to shift away but Hermione’s arms held her in place and she felt the younger woman’s lips press against her forehead once again.  
  
“No,” Hermione whispered, “I don’t want to move. This is...pretty wonderful.”  
  
Narcissa’s heart skipped a beat. No one had ever used the word wonderful to describe being in her presence.  
  
“Can I tell you something, Hermione? Something personal?”  
  
“Of course, you can. We’re going to be married.”  
  
“I’ve never in my life spent time in someone’s arms like this. I was married to Lucius for twenty years but...this? This was never part of that.”  
  
Hermione waited and absorbed the words Narcissa spoke before answering, “Well, then, Narcissa Black, I am even more deeply honored that you’ve chosen to allow my arms to be the ones around you. And, just so we’re on an even keel here, I want you to know, I’ve never done this before either.”  
  
After another long, comfortable stretch of silence, Narcissa asked Hermione what else had been on her mind.  
  
“Oh. Well. Just that we’ve got a wedding to plan? And we should keep up with the boys and who they’re planning to marry. And do you intend to have three children in the next three years? And would you think I’m crazy if, after my NEWTs, I wanted to do two apprenticeships?”  
  
Narcissa couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out, “Oh, my, you do have an active brain! How do you get any sleep in there? Let’s start with an easy one. I would not think you’re crazy. I think you’re brilliant and you should do as many apprenticeships as you want until you figure out what makes you happiest. Okay?”  
  
Hermione nodded, “Okay.”  
  
“I agree about Draco and Harry. Maybe we should plan to meet together every few days? Twice a week? To keep things on track. Is there anyone else we should bring in to help keep the resistance moving forward?”  
  
Chuckling again, Hermione answered, “I love that we’re just casually discussing rebelling against the government while wearing pyjama pants and hoodies and snuggling on the couch.” Narcissa caught her giggles and they were both lost for a few moments. Just as Narcissa thought she could stop, Hermione let out an undignified snort of laughter and they both started laughing all over again. “Oh, my, goodness,” Hermione sighed. “Now I need to pee; up! Up! I need the loo! I’ll be right back - save my seat,” she said with a wink.  
  
While waiting for Hermione to return, Narcissa grabbed an iced biscuit from the tray and was lost in the sound of her crunching. When Hermione came back, she found Narcissa had shifted into the opposite corner and was leaning back with her feet up on the coffee table. Without the slightest hesitation, Hermione sat next to her future wife and curled into her side the same way Narcissa had curled into Hermione earlier.  
  
They hummed in comfort at the same moment. “This is absolutely heavenly, Narcissa. I never knew I could feel so comfortable with another person.”  
  
“I feel exactly the same way.” It was Narcissa’s turn to press a kiss onto Hermione’s forehead and she did not miss the opportunity. Hermione draped her right arm across Narcissa’s torso and got herself settled. “Now, where were we? Ah, right. Meeting with the boys. I think we should. Maybe a weekday dinner meeting and a weekend brunch?”  
  
“Solid plan. What else? Oh! Our wedding! I don’t...I guess I’m not really sure where to go from here. The first time I got married, my mother and Lucius’ mother had the whole thing planned years before it happened. I had no thoughts on any of it, I just did what they said.”  
  
“Hmm. Let’s just...not get bogged down with details. One thing at a time. Let’s start with choosing a day. Anything to which you have a particular affinity or dislike?”  
  
“I...um...well...I always thought that, maybe, a Solstice wedding would be nice.”  
  
“I love the Winter Solstice. That sounds perfect to me. Do you think a lot of people might choose that day, though?” Hermione went from elated to concerned in a flash.  
  
“They might. But they won’t be us. We don’t need a lot of people in attendance, do we?”  
  
“We don’t. Just us and someone to preside would be fine with me, honestly. I don’t really like to be the center of attention.”  
  
Doesn’t want to advertise marrying me, more likely.  
  
“If we don’t invite anyone, we don’t have to pick and print and mail and collect invitations and responses. That’s a bonus!” Narcissa forced a laugh at her own joke.  
  
“Well, I didn’t mean we shouldn’t invite anyone. Unless you don’t want to? Of course, you don’t. Sorry, I forgot for a second, this is just a spark. Right.”  
  
“Hermione, I have...a...proposition.”  
  
Hermione’s heart responded by pounding in her chest. A beautiful woman with ice blue eyes offering her a proposition? Not like that, Hermione. Control yourself! “Go ahead.” Hermione couldn’t keep her hands still in her nervousness. The fingertips of her right hand were running back and forth across the band of the pants Narcissa was wearing, over her left hip, back and forth, back and forth.  
  
“I know we agreed to marry one another to, sort of, protect each other from the Ministry’s choices. But, I think, we might both fare better if we moved ahead with this wedding as though it were really our choice from the beginning. Not as a reaction to government overreach. Because, after all, in a way, it was our choice. Wasn’t it? I’m choosing, of my own free will and with good faith in you, to become your wife.”  
  
Hermione’s hand stopped moving and gripped Narcissa’s hip.  
  
“And I’m choosing of my own free will and with good faith in you, Narcissa Black, to become your wife. Yes,” Hermione took a deep breath, “I completely agree. Let’s move ahead with this and plan it like we would if there were no Decree.”  
  
“Well, then. Hermione, what do you think about getting married on the Winter Solstice? A day to celebrate the Goddess, moon. A day for rebirth and renewal.”  
  
Hermione’s fingers began their back and forth once more. “I think it sounds perfect. One of my favorite days. And a celebration of rebirth and renewal and the spirit of the goddess? It sounds exactly right, Narcissa.”  
  
Narcissa stretched a little to hug Hermione and it shifted her hips. Hermione’s hand slipped under the hem of the jumper Narcissa was wearing and grazed the soft skin of her torso, just above her hip. Narcissa gasped inadvertently but didn’t stop her movements to wrap her arms around Hermione. They were going to be married, after all.  
  
Hermione, intoxicated simply by the feel of Narcissa’s smooth skin beneath her fingers, slid her hand under Narcissa’s t-shirt and pressed it against her back to hold her more tightly. Narcissa’s face was tucked into Hermione’s neck so the younger woman could clearly hear and feel the gasp Narcissa sucked in when Hermione’s hand was finally splayed across her delicate skin.  
  
Not wanting to upset the other woman, Hermione pressed her mouth just above Narcissa’s ear and whispered, “Is this okay?”  
  
Unable to trust her voice, Narcissa simply nodded...and pressed more tightly against Hermione.  
  
Neither was sure whose heartbeat she was hearing and feeling, both were pounding forcefully with the effect of skin on skin - even that small amount.  
  
With her lips still near Narcissa’s ear, Hermione’s hot breath was melting the other woman. Narcissa’s lips found the pulse point beneath Hermione’s ear and pressed there to feel the life beating within the woman in her arms. She nipped gently at the soft skin, eliciting a quiet moan from her young fiancée whose nails grazed the skin on Narcissa’s back. Narcissa placed kisses on the edge of Hermione’s jaw, moving closer to her mouth with each one. Just as she reached the corner of Hermione's lips, they heard a tapping. Both women froze until they heard it again. The second time it was accompanied by a voice calling, “Hermione? It’s me. Can I talk to you?”  
  
Letting out a noisy breath through her nose, Hermione leaned back and - regretfully - away from Narcissa’s kisses. “Of all the unlucky moments to be interrupted,” Hermione whispered, looking intently into Narcissa’s eyes. Narcissa merely smiled and tucked a few curls behind Hermione’s ear.  
  
“You better answer him; he’s probably very nervous about what happened before.”  
  
“Do I have to? I was rather enjoying this moment.”  
  
Smiling once more, Narcissa shrugged her shoulders.  
  
Hermione reluctantly got up and opened the door for Harry. 

“Hermione, Mistress Black - “  
  
“You can call me Narcissa, Harry,” the woman said as she rose from the couch, “No need to stand on ceremony when I’m wearing socks adorned with cupcakes.” Narcissa was pleased when her statement had its intended effect and Hermione chuckled a bit.  
  
“Either way, I’m so very sorry. I can’t believe he came in here. I swear it, Hermione, he’s never done that before, just burst into your rooms when you aren’t here. I told him not to.”  
  
“Harry, it’s okay. I heard you tell him not to come in here. That he chose to ignore you is his own fault. I do ask that he not be allowed back at our flat for a while however. Whether or not I’m here, I just don’t feel comfortable with him in our living space.” Hermione was still standing near the door and Narcissa moved to be next to her then, reaching out to rest her hand at the small of Hermione’s back, she provided a bit of comfort.  
  
“I must say, the shouting was less than pleasant,” Narcissa chimed in.  
  
“But not entirely unexpected,” Hermione added. “Ron’s always been a bit immature.” She tucked her arm underneath Narcissa’s and stretched it around the other woman’s waist. “Would you like to come in, Harry? We have tea and biscuits.”  
  
Grinning just a bit, Harry teased, “Only if I don’t have to put on pyjamas.”  
  
Laughing, Hermione shoved him with almost no force behind it.

As the three sat down, Hermione offered biscuits and Narcissa used a quick spell to re-boil the water in the kettle for the tea they had never had and went about pouring three cups.  
  
After the tea had been sugared to everyone’s liking and napkins distributed, Hermione spoke, “Narcissa and I were just talking about making a plan to get together more often with you and Draco.”  
  
Narcissa smoothly cut in, “We were thinking twice a week?”  
  
“Perhaps a weekday dinner and a Sunday brunch?” Hermione finished.  
  
Harry took a long sip of tea to hide his grin. “Sure, sounds good to me. That way we can keep each other updated on who we’ve spoken with about the Decree.”  
  
“Have you spoken with anyone?” Hermione questioned.  
  
“I have but I don’t have many clear answers just yet. Let’s meet this Sunday with Draco and I’ll fill you in on what I have and he can do the same. Yeah?”  
  
The women looked at one another and silently agreed before turning back to Harry. “Yes, come by the Manor for brunch, around eleven?”  
  
Harry nodded, mouth full of biscuit. When he finally finished chewing, he asked what was on his mind, “So, Hermione, did you talk about your thoughts from this morning?”  
  
“We did. Narcissa had a brilliant idea and I’m going to take her advice on it, actually, and owl McGonagall to ask if I can work with some professors independently from home. Sort of as a correspondence course but with the option to go into Hogwarts a few times a month on weekends to have discussions and make sure my practical skills are advancing appropriately.”  
  
Harry beamed for his friend. That did sound like the perfect compromise of what she wanted - a life outside of school and the education she deserved. “That really is a brilliant idea! I’m sure McGonagall will go for it for you, Hermione, you’ve always been her favorite,” he teased.  
  
“Well, how many other witches or wizards do you know could transfigure a living creature into an inanimate object on their first try?” Narcissa’s defense of Hermione was so smooth and immediate it caught both Hermione and Harry off guard.  
  
Hermione’s smile was slow to start but it lit up the room.  
  
“Fair point to the Lady,” Harry joked again.  
  
The discussion turned to all the courses Hermione wanted to continue taking and she even added in a few she hadn’t studied in years.  
  
“I just don’t understand why you want a NEWT in Muggle Studies, dear. You grew up in the muggle world!”  
  
“I know, Narcissa, but I have bigger aspirations than just plugging my day away behind a desk. I am quite interested in education and I think I could be quite a good Muggle Studies or Muggle Relations teacher. I’m also very interested in working in the Ministry and our Magical-Muggle Cooperation can only improve by normalizing the understanding and study of the muggle world.”  
  
Narcissa glanced from Hermione’s flushed cheeks down to her heaving chest, a little distracted by how beautiful the young woman looked when she was passionate about something, “Well, Hermione. If you are this passionate about it before you’ve even started, you will make your mark on the wizarding world. Just remember, dear one, you can’t fight every battle. Some other time,” Narcissa glanced at Harry, watching them avidly, “let’s talk through all the items on your list you want to fight for and figure out how to do each one justice.” Narcissa reached up and tucked a curl behind Hermione’s ear.  
  
Hermione nodded, eyes locked onto Narcissa’s. Before she could answer, her stomach let itself be heard.  
  
“Oh, my,” Narcissa chuckled, “I guess it really is time to feed the beast.”  
  
Harry set his tea cup down, “I think that’s my cue to go, ladies. Enjoy your dinner! I have to go study some wizarding regulations for the DMLE. I really do want to be an Auror.”  
  
“Bye, Harry!”

Hermione waited for the door to close behind Harry before she turned quickly back to Narcissa and threw her arms around the other woman. The force of her powerful hug knocked Narcissa back into the corner of the loveseat and the woman laughed a little, “Hermione, what is it?”  
  
“Thank you,” Hermione said into Narcissa’s long neck, “Thank you so much for what you just said. You didn’t laugh at me. You didn’t tell me I don’t have to save everyone or that Muggle Studies are a waste of time. You are the first person who has actually, genuinely supported my desire for social justice for all creatures. God, thank you, Narcissa.”  
  
“Oh, ‘Mione, when I said I wanted us to treat this marriage as if it’s real, I meant we ought to treat one another that way, too. I’ll never dismiss your goals or desires. Neither a partner nor a friend should do that. Come now, dear. Time to get up and dressed for dinner or I’ll never get off this couch with you.”  
  
“And that’s supposed to be a deterrent?” Hermione teased as she got up, pulling Narcissa up beside her. “You can use the bathroom again to change. I’ll change out here and we can go.”

Once they were ready, the women discussed going to the Three Broomsticks but Narcissa knew Draco was in Hogsmeade and didn’t want him to think she was checking up on him. Then they talked about the Leaky Cauldron but Hermione hadn’t liked the pro-Ministry-at-all-costs stance last time she’d been there. Just as Narcissa was about to mention a little bistro on the Place Cachée, Pepper popped into the room.  
  
“Mistress Black, Hermione Granger, the gates is finished now. Filly says come try. Pepper will make dinner!”  
  
Smiling once more, Narcissa simply said, “Perfect.”

The women stepped outside and Hermione offered to Apparate them to Black Manor but Narcissa vehemently declined.  
  
“Excuse me?” Hermione asked.  
  
“I apologize for offending you but I was absolutely sure I was going to get splinched earlier today.”  
  
Hermione paled and looked away, “That’s not something to joke about, Narcissa.”  
  
“I’m not joking, Hermione. Your Apparition prep scared me. Did you learn from Wilkie Twycross?”  
  
Bristling, Hermione answered sharply, “He was the Ministry approved tutor while I was at Hogwarts.”  
  
“Well, he -” Narcissa cut herself off. She took a very deep breath and let it out in a slow, controlled push. “I’m sorry for insulting you, Hermione, truly. Wilkie Twycross may be Ministry approved but he is also teaching you in a very difficult manner. The old ways of Apparating are much less...disturbing...and don’t feel like you’re being squeezed through a straw.”  
  
“But, I can Apparate the way the Ministry says to. And I’ve brought people along. And I even fought off a Death Eater WHILE Apparating!”  
  
“Have you ever been splinched?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Hermione’s short, one-word answer gave away more information than a whole paragraph would have.  
  
“You haven't been splinched but you splinched someone else, haven't you?”  
  
“Well, I was fighting off a Death Eater at the time and trying not to lose Harry and Ron. It was an accident!”  
  
Hugging Hermione again, Narcissa tried to soothe her, “Darling, I know it was an accident. Listen, I’ve never been splinched either but I’ve seen it happen. Only ever when someone was using the Ministry approved method. Will you allow me to teach you the old ways of Apparating?  
  
Nodding, Hermione looked at Narcissa once more.  
  
“I never would’ve believed anyone if they had told me how kind, thoughtful, and generous you are, Narcissa Black. And my life would have been all the poorer for it. Thank you,” Hermione blushed again and pressed her lips to the corner of Narcissa’s mouth.


	5. A Muggle Field Trip

Once again finding Hermione awake before him surprised Harry as he made his way downstairs for his morning ritual.  
  
“Tea, Hermione?” he called through her door.  
  
“Yes, thanks, Harry!”  
  
When Hermione joined Harry half an hour later, she found the Daily Prophet waiting for her on the table, open to the section with announcements about the newly formed couples courtesy of the Replenishment Decree. As Harry expected, Hermione let out a strangled gasp.  
  
“They have Draco marrying who?”  
  
“Yes, I thought that might be unexpected. I do believe he was hoping to be married before they could assign him to anyone but, clearly he didn’t get that done in time.”  
  
“Seriously, Harry. Who is Margaret Runcorn? Is she Albert Runcorn’s daughter? Is her father the Death Eater?”  
  
Harry shook his head slowly.  
  
“No?” She questioned. It took a moment for realization to dawn and her eyes to widen, “his wife?”  
  
Harry nodded solemnly at his friend.  
  
“So this is to be a punishment for some people. I mean, why else would they pair an eighteen year old with a widow? Runcorn had to be about forty-five or fifty, yeah? And Gregory Goyle with Rebecca Thicknesse, Pius’ widow?”  
  
“Probably,” Harry agreed. “Uh, listen, Hermione. There’s one more thing you should read.” Harry handed her the Quibbler, also folded open to a specific section.  
  
“Oh? Has Xenophilius been allowed to print again?” she took the magazine from him and started to read before a quiet, “oh,” came out of her mouth and she took a seat. “So, I guess the Ministry did release our names. The Prophet just hasn’t found the right angle to print them yet. Hmm.”  
  
The Quibbler has it on good authority that one of the soon-to-wed-couples is none other than Hermione Granger and Narcissa Black, the recently divorced former wife of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. Miss Granger and Mistress Black were both previously announced as betrothed to Ronald Weasley and Lucius Malfoy respectively. One source from within the Ministry alerted The Quibbler staff that the two witches went to the Department for Magical Law Enforcement together earlier this week to request that they be allowed to wed one another. The Ministry employee said the two were quite polite but very firm about their request and seemed to have been seeing one another “for a good while” before the Decree was announced. Mistress Black was heard complaining that the Decree had ruined the romantic proposal she had planned for Miss Granger and the two have been spotted together quite frequently in the last few days but not at all in the previous months. Molly Weasley, mother of Ronald, spoke with a reporter for another wizarding publication to say that she was certain Miss Granger would be following whatever the Ministry told her to do. We will keep readers up to date on the situation as necessary.  
  
The Quibbler also notes that Andromeda Tonks, née Black, widow of Ted Tonks who was killed during the recent war, has been heard lamenting the Decree herself. Mrs. Tonks is raising her orphaned grandson who lost both of his parents, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, to Death Eaters in May and has serious concerns about being forced to marry and bring someone into their lives during this tumultuous time. The staff at The Quibbler sends our thoughts and good hopes to Mrs. Tonks and her young grandson, Teddy.

“Alright then, Hermione?” Harry asked quietly.  
  
“I am,” she smiled slightly. “It’s true that I’m going to marry Narcissa and that we were quite firm with the Ministry about it. The only part that’s inaccurate is what Mrs. Weasley said but I can’t help that. And,” she said with a shrug, “I’m not going to worry about it this morning. I have plans with Narcissa and she’ll be here any minute.” Hermione finished her tea, stood, and handed The Quibbler back to Harry.  
  
“Enjoy your date, Hermione. I’ll see you later,” Harry smirked as she headed back upstairs to finish getting ready.

Hermione heard a knock on the door a short while later and raced downstairs to answer it.  
  
“Hi,” she gulped, eyes slowly traveling down Narcissa’s frame.  
  
“Good morning,” Narcissa leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss on Hermione’s cheek. “Surprised to see me in muggle attire?” She whispered before leaning back. When her eyes met Hermione’s again, Narcissa reached up to wipe away a smudge of lipstick.  
  
“Not surprised, no,” Hermione said quietly as she stepped forward and slipped her arms around Narcissa’s waist, her voice dropping in register, “just appreciative of the excellent fit and style.”  
  
Chuckling, Narcissa questioned, “who knew the good girl of the Golden Trio would be such an accomplished flirt?”  
  
“The good girls always are, Narcissa.” Hermione stepped back, smiling broadly. “Ready to head into Muggle London with me?”  
  
Narcissa simply nodded and took a deep breath as the two headed down the steps.  
  
“You’ve never really done the muggle thing, eh?”  
  
“I haven’t, no. I was raised in a strictly pure-blood, wizarding manner. Muggles and muggle-borns were not to be mixed with. Today’s adventure is quite new to me but I do love art and I would like to learn about things that interest you, Hermione.”  
  
Still smiling, Hermione bumped her shoulder gently into Narcissa’s, “Then I think we’re going to have a lovely date today. I thought we could take the Tube over, there’s a station just on the corner here. That okay?”  
  
“The tube?”  
  
“Mm-hmm,” Hermione smiled and gestured to the stairs leading beneath the street.  
  
“That sign says Underground, Hermione.”  
  
“Yes,” the younger woman said slowly, the realization that Narcissa truly had zero experience in this world starting to dawn. “The Tube is an underground form of muggle transportation. It’s a train that runs through a tunnel beneath the streets. It’s mostly called the Underground or, sometimes I guess you could call it the subway but that’s an American thing mostly. In some places they call it the metro. Some stations are big, like King’s Cross--which we’ll go through, actually--but some are just little stops like this one.”  
  
“And we go down those stairs and get on a train?”  
  
“Sort of, yes?”  
  
Narcissa’s eyes narrowed.  
  
“Trust me. You’ll see. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you the underground is the fanciest of transports but it works, it’s not expensive, and it’s fairly quick. We’ll take this train on the Victoria Line down to Oxford Circus and then switch over to the Bakerloo Line.”  
  
“We have to change trains? Underground? Muggles do that without magic?”  
  
Hermione simply blinked at Narcissa and realized how much the older woman truly didn’t know. Instinctively understanding that she had to treat Narcissa’s ignorance delicately, Hermione was careful not to embarrass the other woman, “I’m sorry for being so rude, Narcissa. It’s quite similar to the Hogwarts Express. The main difference is that it makes a bunch of different stops instead of just a direct route. We’ll get off the train when it stops at Oxford Circus. Then we’ll have to go up a set of stairs, cross through the station there and come down on the other side to catch a train that runs on a different set of tracks. There’s many different sets of tracks that run under the city streets. Once you’re down there, I can show you a map and it’ll make so much more sense than my poor explanation.”  
  
Looking excited, Narcissa nodded and moved down the station stairs a little more quickly.

Hermione dug through her wallet to pull out exact change for their tickets for the day and helped Narcissa through the turnstile, then showed her the map. Hermione had been correct, Narcissa completely understood once she saw the layout.  
  
“Oh. This is London. Just...underneath.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“So people and cars can still move about aboveground.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
Narcissa nodded and looked around, jumping slightly when the announcement came on to let them know a train was arriving imminently.  
  
“That’s us. It’s not crowded, so just make sure we wait back a few steps to let people off first.”  
  
“Yes, dear,” Narcissa teased, taking Hermione’s elbow with her hand and squeezing affectionately.  
  
Once the pair had boarded and realized the car was nearly empty they decided to seat themselves near the door for the short ride. Side by side on the uncomfortable plastic seats, their shoulders were pressed into one another. Very quickly, Hermione’s foot was tapping the floor at a rapid tempo and she was biting her lip.  
  
“Okay, Hermione, spill it. What’s wrong?”  
  
“Hmm? On, nothing, everything’s fine,” Hermione’s voice was pitched just a bit too high for that to be believable.  
  
Narcissa simply tilted her head, raised her eyebrows, and looked the other woman square in the eyes.  
  
“I just wondered if you’d read the Quibbler this morning is all?”  
  
Narcissa reached over and gently squeezed Hermione’s arm, “I have, actually. You mentioned the other day that you read it each morning so, in fact, I purchased a daily subscription for the Manor.” Narcissa blushed a bit and glanced out the window. The walls rushing by, however, made her a bit queasy and she turned back to look at Hermione. “Are you concerned that they announced our...plans? Would you have rather kept it secret?”  
  
“No! Narcissa, no. Not at all. We agreed yesterday that, even though this is ridiculously rushed, we’re both going into it with our eyes wide open and of our own free wills. I was just upset about what Mrs. Weasley said...that she’s sure I’ll do whatever the Ministry tells me. It makes me seem like a Ministry lapdog and I don’t want you to think that of me.”  
  
“Oh, darling. First of all, I could never think of you as a Ministry lapdog. Our entire situation began with you pushing back against their ridiculous decree. Second, it was only published in The Quibbler. We could get our own announcement published in The Daily Prophet tomorrow morning if we want to. I know Xenophilius’ readership has grown but he still can’t really compete with The Prophet’s audience.”  
  
“Is that something you’re interested in? An engagement announcement?”  
  
“It’s a bit old-fashioned but, then, so am I. And I think, in some ways, you are, too. Our relationship itself notwithstanding, of course.”  
  
Laughing, Hermione agreed, “of course.”  
  
“Well then. Let’s send an engagement announcement into The Prophet today with a picture along with a moderately embellished story about our romance and ask them to include it in tomorrow morning’s edition? I’m sure if the Ministry thinks it supports the Decree, it’ll be front page news. They’re too thick to read between the lines of what you and I can write together. People looking for a spark will find one. Blind followers will simply be left a little...confused but they won’t even know why.”  
  
“Perfect. You’re brilliant, Narcissa. Thank Merlin you never actually tried to help Voldemort, he’d have won for sure,” Hermione realized.  
  
“Shh, keep that to yourself, dear. We have a life to plan and I’d like it to be a safe one.”  
  
Hermione simply smirked in response.

“I do enjoy Trafalgar Square,” Narcissa breathed out as she wrapped her arm around Hermione’s and squeezed gently. “When I was younger and we would bring Bellatrix and later Andromeda to Diagon Alley for school supplies we would always come through Trafalgar Square.”  
  
“Huh, that’s kind of unexpected,” Hermione pointed out.  
  
Stiffening, Narcissa agreed, “Honestly, that is unexpected. Why would all of our pureblood families have come through a very muggle area all together except to, I don’t know, do something untoward. I think actually, that memory is perhaps not what it seems. That’s a shame. I had always remembered Trafalgar Square as a sunny, happy place with fountains and laughter and different kinds of people all side by side.”  
  
“It can be, Narcissa. As a little girl, that is what the square was to you. You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t let them ruin it for you now, years later.” Spotting a green vendor stand, Hermione had an idea, “How about we add another happy memory out here today?”  
  
Narcissa turned her face toward Hermione and nodded quickly.  
  
“Get a coffee with me at that Cabbies Shelter over there and we can stop at a fountain and make a wish and do a little muggle watching before we go to the Gallery.”  
  
“Sounds perfect,” Narcissa agreed.

“Nope, I am not,” Narcissa refused once more with a smile on her face.  
  
“I can’t believe it. We’re to be married in just three and half months and you won’t even tell me your wish,” the younger woman teased, happy to see Narcissa smiling again. The coffee, fountain, and muggle watching had worked to lighten the mood. Hermione stood and picked up both empty coffee cups to dispose of them properly.  
  
Narcissa followed along behind Hermione, appreciating the well-dressed form of the other woman. “Hermione,” she called.  
  
“Yes?” Hermione spun and walked backwards toward the rubbish bin.  
  
“I should’ve said earlier how lovely you look, I’m sorry.” Hermione stopped walking at the lower timbre in the other woman’s voice and her pause in motion allowed Narcissa to catch up. They were standing face to face. Narcissa reached out with one hand to run her fingers along the collar of Hermione’s jacket. “The black leather jacket suits you. It’s a little edgy but the cut softens it nicely and it goes well with those jeans and boots.”  
  
Hermione, trying unsuccessfully to fight the blush rising to her cheeks, threw back, “Who knew the baby of the Black sister was such an accomplished flirt?”  
  
Laughing, Narcissa shook her head and turned Hermione back around as the women headed to the National Gallery, “Oh, everyone, Hermione, everyone.”

“Hermione, I’m telling you, this is incredible. I had no idea we had so much shared culture. This is really a concept to explore. We’ve only been here an hour and half and we’ve found a dozen painters who I know for certain are from,” Narcissa looked around, aware of the possibility of nearby muggles, “our community.”  
  
“I completely agree, Narcissa. Now. Look at me,” Hermione reached for Narcissa’s hand to stop the other woman’s quick pace. Once Narcissa was looking at Hermione, she continued, “I absolutely think your thoughts on this are intriguing and I want to come back with paper and ink to write down the artists' names we’ve found that we want to check on elsewhere. But. We are about to enter my absolute favorite room in the entire Gallery and I’ve never told another soul that before.”  
  
“Oh,” Narcissa gasped, pressing her free hand to her own chest and stepping toward Hermione, “I...oh.” She swallowed. “Let’s go then.” Narcissa adjusted her grip to lace her fingers through Hermione’s as they walked into a room with a high, domed, stained glass ceiling and a beautiful, marble floor shaped as an octagon. There were archways and cutouts around the walls. “Hermione,” Narcissa whispered, “you’re right. This is absolutely perfect.” Narcissa was enthralled by the intricate detail of the woodwork around the ceiling and the carved walls. “So beautiful.”  
  
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, “quite beautiful.”  
  
Narcissa looked at the woman in front of her and realized Hermione’s eyes had been on Narcissa the whole time. Narcissa nodded, “Yes. Quite.”  
  
Her hand reached up to tuck a stray curl back behind Hermione’s ear and found itself resting on the curve of her neck, her thumb tracing a path up and down Hermione’s cheek. Hermione’s hand snaked inside Narcissa’s open cardigan and pulled the other woman closer. Sharing breath for a moment, Hermione closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Narcissa’s collar bone. She filled her lungs with air and asked quietly, “Narcissa, may I kiss you?”  
  
“I wish you would, Hermione.” There was no hesitation in Narcissa’s answer.  
  
Hermione lifted her head and looked up to make eye contact once more before stretching on her toes to brush her lips so gently against Narcissa’s once, then again. A shaky breath later found Hermione pressing her lips firmly to her fiancée’s, head tilted, meeting the other woman’s needy pressure with her own.  
  
Both women lost track of time and separated what could have been moments or days later to the sound of a wolf whistle from somewhere in the Gallery.  
  
Hermione hadn’t realized her arms had both found their way around Narcissa and she moved back half a step to link their hands together once more. “Gods, Narcissa, that was…”  
  
“Yes,” Narcissa whispered, eyes wide, lips swollen.  
  
Looking at Narcissa, Hermione grew a little concerned, “Narcissa, are you okay?”  
  
“Am I...am I okay?” Narcissa turned and looked at Hermione.  
  
“Let’s find a restroom so we can fix our lipstick, I have a feeling I’m wearing some right now and all I put on this morning was some Blistex,” Hermione said sweetly, tugging Narcissa by the arm to the nearest sign for a restroom.  
  
Thankfully the restroom was empty and Hermione quickly used magic to lock the door.  
  
“Narcissa, look at me,” Hermione said clearly. “Are you okay? You look a little dazed.”  
  
“Hermione, I am a little dazed! I’ve never been kissed like that in the 37 years I’ve been alive!” She stepped forward and pressed her lips back against Hermione’s, more passionately than before. Hermione hummed into the kiss and instinctively wrapped her arms around the other woman. After a few long moments, they slowed their kisses and gently trailed off.  
  
Placing a chaste kiss on the tip of Narcissa’s nose, Hermione then stepped back and got each of them a cool, damp paper towel.  
  
“I know we’ve only been here a little while, but we can always come back. Would you like to have our photo taken somewhere and then have an announcement sent over to The Prophet?” Hermione asked.  
  
Smirking into the mirror as she fixed her lipstick, Narcissa merely raised her eyebrows at Hermione.  
  
Hermione laughed heartily. “I have a suspicious feeling I’m going to get to know that look and I’m guessing it means you’re plotting something!”  
  
Laughing along, Narcissa simply stated, “We shall see.”  
  
Once the women were outside, Narcissa took Hermione’s hand in her own again and used it to pull the younger woman closer and quietly ask, “Is there a discreet Apparition point around here? I can’t recall other than Diagon Alley a few blocks away.”  
  
Biting her lip for a moment, Hermione then answered in the negative. “I think we’ll just have to go over through the Leaky Cauldron. There’s a lot of muggles about for a weekday.”  
  
“Well, it is gorgeous out. Clear and sunny after that storm yesterday. Is this acceptable, by the way?” Narcissa asked, indicating their joined hands as they headed in the directing of Charing Cross and the Wizarding pub.  
  
Squeezing the hand in hers, Hermione answered, “Completely.”  
  
Holding hands with Narcissa was a revelation for Hermione. She had always felt a bit of an outcast, hadn’t really found herself belonging anywhere other than with Harry and Ron and even that had come with a cost. She had been the third wheel sometimes; forced to choose between them whenever they were at odds with one another. Too academically focused to relate to her peers and painfully aware of it. Though sharing a flat with Harry had come to make Hermione feel closer to him it had also starkly outlined their differences. Spending time with Narcissa the past few days, however, had reminded Hermione that she wasn’t alone in her appreciation of academia, history, and humanity. Physical affection was unusual for her but Hermione found herself thrilled by the simple feel of another palm pressed against her own.  
  
Narcissa stopped abruptly.  
  
“What?” Hermione looked around, instantly prepared for danger and ready to engage.  
  
“Oh, no, no, Hermione, no. Nothing like that,” Narcissa put her free hand on the other woman’s forearm to keep her wand in it’s holster. “I’ve just realized you wanted to have a muggle day and if we go to have a photo taken and an announcement printed where I’d like to go, it’ll ruin your plans.”  
  
Heaving a great sigh, Hermione stepped forward until she was pressed against the other woman and rested her forehead back on Narcissa’s shoulder. “I spent eight months living on the run not all that long ago. I’m still just a bit jumpy in public.”  
  
“I’m sorry, dear,” Narcissa pressed a kiss to the side of Hermione’s head, “I was only thinking of your plans...and our wardrobe.” Narcissa smiled when her last comment had its intended effect and Hermione laughed again.  
  
“Don’t worry about my plans. Anything we were going to do today we can do any time. What about our wardrobe?”  
  
Narcissa narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, contemplating something.  
  
“What are you thinking about?”  
  
“I would really like to go to Place Cachée in Paris for our announcement. I’m just thinking about the best way to get there.”  
  
“Paris? For the afternoon?”  
  
Narcissa shrugged, “yes? We used to Apparate there all the time when I was younger. I didn’t actually realize it was illegal until I was an adult and someone at the Ministry came to Malfoy Manor to tell Lucius to stop Apparating to the middle of Parisian streets.” Narcissa rolled her eyes, “he always liked to be so flashy.”  
  
They had started walking toward the Leaky Cauldron again as they spoke and Narcissa continued a moment later. “Of course, the Malfoys and the Blacks have Manors in the outskirts of Paris so they tried to connect them using the Floo network but they couldn’t make them very secure so I had both Black Manors removed from the list. I think I have a portkey left to get to Paris but I’m not sure I have any left to get home.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Narcissa, but can you pause for a moment?”  
  
Eyebrows shooting up, Narcissa closed her mouth.  
  
“I didn’t mean to offend you but, I don’t understand. How were you able to Apparate all the way to Paris? That’s quite the distance. We were told Apparition between countries was nearly impossible and completely illegal.”  
  
“Illegal, yes. Impossible, not even close. Hermione, you’ve managed to Apparate all over the United Kingdom have you not?”  
  
“A bit, yes. Not all over, but, some.”  
  
Shaking her head at how well the Ministry was able to manipulate children by controlling their education. “I promise to teach you the old way of Apparating if you promise to keep a more open mind, Hermione. You should know it’s not impossible to go between countries. Didn’t you Apparate to Scotland?”  
  
After a moment, Hermione acquiesced, “fair point.”  
  
Laughing, Narcissa stopped Hermione at a crosswalk near the pub.  
  
Leaning into the other woman while they waited for the light to change, Hermione tried to silently lend Narcissa a little of her strength to walk through the Leaky Cauldron. She knew being in close quarters with that many witches and wizards made Narcissa uncomfortable.  
  
As they started to walk, Hermione asked, “Do you like boats?”  
  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
  
“You heard me, do you like boats?” Hermione asked again, distracting Narcissa with a seemingly obscure question.  
  
“I haven’t all that much experience with them, I suppose. To what end are you asking about boats?”  
  
“I was just thinking,” Hermione paused as she pulled open the door with the hand that wasn’t holding Narcissa’s, “we could Apparate to the port that has the boating company that ferries magically across the Channel. We could take a lovely boat ride on a beautiful, sunny day and have a delightful afternoon in Paris.” Hermione finished the end of her statement so quietly she had to lean into Narcissa’s ear to speak as they walked so no one near them would hear her. It also gave the appearance of the two of them being deep in conversation to discourage any interruptions from pub patrons. Hermione pulled back and looked up at Narcissa’s face with a bright smile.  
  
Matching the smile in front of her, Narcissa agreed that it did sound like quite a delightful idea.

“I’ll Apparate to the port, Hermione, please,” Narcissa said quickly as they arrived in the area of Diagon Alley often used for departing witches and wizards.  
  
“Let’s just agree that until I learn your ‘Old Ways’ you’ll do the Apparating for the both of us?”  
  
Gently grasping Hermione’s chin in her thumb and forefinger, Narcissa leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I don’t know what Draco was talking about all those years, you’re perfectly agreeable to me,” Narcissa teased and laughed at the look of faux outrage on Hermione’s face. “Ready?”  
  
Hermione nodded, still looking up at Narcissa, quiet and contemplative.  
  
Once they arrived at the dock, Hermione looked around, “This isn’t where I was expecting to be!”  
  
“I brought us to a port in Brighton. We can take a ship across to this little wizarding village, Fleur Sur la Mer? And then Apparate from there?”  
  
Hermione simply smiled and nodded in response, completely charmed by Narcissa’s surprise. 

The women were settled on a comfortable seat for two near the back of the upper deck for the ride. Being a boating company strictly for use by the magical community, there were some significant differences to a typical ferry. Like the Knight Bus, each passenger had their choice of lounge seating or could find an enclosed cabin in the magically expanded ship’s interior. The upper and lower decks were discreetly partitioned to afford beautiful views and enough privacy for conversation. The seats were well cushioned chairs and couches with coffee and end tables provided and there were House Elves wearing little versions of the sailor’s uniform.  
  
After requesting tea and biscuits from Tibby, Narcissa lounged back onto the couch, relaxing her body for a moment. Hermione took the opportunity to remove her boots and tuck her feet under Narcissa’s leg as she turned sideways to lean back on the arm rest and look at the older woman. “You okay?”  
  
“Just thinking, dear,” Narcissa answered, opening one eye to glance at Hermione. “You?”  
  
“The same.”  
  
Tibby returned with their order but didn’t interrupt, he silently placed it all on the table near the witches and disappeared.  
  
“Do you,” Hermione paused, clearing her throat past the lump that had suddenly formed there. “Narcissa, do you still want to get married?”  
  
Narcissa looked directly into Hermione’s eyes and nodded solemnly. “And you, Hermione? Do you still want to marry me?”  
  
“Yes. Even more than I did just last night.”  
  
“So what are you thinking about that makes you so serious?”  
  
“I’ll tell you, I just can’t find the right way to get it out and it’s going to sound bad.”  
  
“So, you don’t want to marry me,” Narcissa said with no inflection.  
  
Hermione sat up quickly, grabbing Narcissa’s hand. “Stop. Stop right there. I do want to marry you. Remember? Of my own free will.”  
  
“Right,” Narcissa closed her eyes again, “Just say it, then, Hermione, whatever it is.”  
  
“Oh, Narcissa. I was just thinking about you. The way you look today.” Narcissa’s eyes opened, though they remained cloudy as she looked at the younger woman. Hermione’s eyes were darting all over before they found a bird who’s path she followed through the sky. “I’ve seen you for years, you know. At King’s Cross, at Hogwarts, in Diagon Alley, in Knockturn Alley even - though, come to think of it that might not have been you. Anyway. I’ve seen you for years but there’s something different about you today. And maybe a little yesterday, too. You look a little bit different to me. Not younger but...brighter, somehow? Your smile earlier when you were teasing me about being agreeable? Your smile lit up your whole face, Narcissa. Your eyes were the most glorious shade of blue. I think you’re quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve always noticed your beauty but today it’s just...I can't explain it. It’s different. It’s...warmer. And I just want. To. I just want to hold you.” Hermione’s eyes fell shut with the end of her whispered confession.  
  
After a moment, Hermione heard Narcissa sniffle and her eyes flew open to look at her fiancée who said through her tears, “Well, I’m right here.”  
  
Hermione fit herself into the place next to Narcissa, a mirror of how they had spent much of the previous afternoon.  
  
Narcissa’s sniffles slowed and she tilted Hermione’s face up to meet her own.  
  
“No one has ever said anything like that to me before, Hermione. Thank you,” she exhaled as she pressed their lips together once more.

“Today has been perfect,” Hermione declared as they cleaned up their lunch and got ready to exit the boat.  
  
“And there’s so much of it left to experience. Let’s see if we can’t keep it there,” Narcissa teased again.  
  
“Getting an engagement photo taken with the most beautiful witch in Europe? Gee...I don’t know. That’s a real hardship,” Hermione teased back.  
  
“Well played, Miss Granger. A compliment and a complaint together,” Narcissa turned to look at Hermione when no response was forthcoming. The younger woman was standing still, head tilted once more, deep in contemplation. “What is it, dear?” Narcissa stepped toward her.  
  
“Granger-Black, I think, sounds good. Black-Granger sounds like you’re describing the name Granger. Or just Black. We could both be Lady Black, right? Or would that not be possible with pureblood traditions?”  
  
Narcissa abruptly put down the plates she was moving and placed her hands on either side of Hermione’s face, pulling the younger woman in for a fierce kiss. “I don’t know how you have such an intriguing and brilliant mind but I...am very thankful to have it in my life...and Granger-Black sounds perfect to me.”


	6. That Spark is A Flame

6 - The Spark is A Flame

Hermione gripped Narcissa’s forearm with both hands as she looked around Place Cachée with wide eyes and a smile on her face.  
  
“It feels different than Diagon Alley, older somehow.”  
  
“I don’t actually know how long either place has been in existence but I definitely get that feeling here, too. The photographer’s studio is just up ahead but…”  
  
Hermione glanced around before pulling Narcissa toward the storefront they were passing, “But what?”  
  
“I find myself wishing we had stopped for a change of clothing before we came for this. I’m not at all convinced I want to publish a photo dressed in a Muggle outfit like I’m wearing. A cardigan and jeans? It’s not my usual style.”  
  
Nodding and biting her lip, Hermione looked around casually. “I have two ideas. First, there’s a robe shop across the street. We can go and get ourselves outfitted in some of the most beautiful robes around, I’m sure. Muggle Paris is known for fashion, I imagine wizarding Paris is the same.”  
  
Smirking, Narcissa asked, “And second?”  
  
“Second, we could leave you in those,” Hermione paused, glancing around and biting her lip, “sinful jeans, and transfigure your tops into something more appropriate for an engagement photo.”  
  
By the time Hermione finished speaking, the women were standing face to face, quite close to one another. Narcissa glanced down at Hermione’s lips, tongue sneaking out to moisten her own. “Sound suggestions. Let’s do both.” She leaned down and captured Hermione's lips in a quick kiss, “Mmm. Ready?” Narcissa stepped back and grasped Hermione’s hand once more, smiling playfully at the younger woman’s starstruck expression.  
  
Tripping into the store just behind the taller woman, Hermione reminded herself that she needed to be a good sport about shopping, especially because it was her own idea.  
  
“Lady Malfoy! Welcome back to Maison Capenoir! It has been too long,” a handsome man exclaimed as Narcissa stepped nearer the counter. He was tall and blonde, built similarly to Lucius and wore a clearly expensive and well-tailored formal black robe. Hermione hated him.  
  
“Ah, Rafael, it’s lovely to see you again,” Narcissa leaned forward and air-kissed both of his cheeks, “but it’s actually Black, not Malfoy.”  
  
“Finally! That lout is gone? For good?”  
  
“For good,” Narcissa acknowledged, “and that is actually why I’m here. If I may?” She pulled Hermione forward to stand next to her.  
  
Rafael waved his arms in a hurrying manner.  
  
Laughing, Narcissa stretched her right arm across Hermione’s shoulders, “I would like to introduce you to my fiancée, Hermione Granger.”  
  
“Mademoiselle,” Rafael said, leaning forward to take Hermione’s hand and place a kiss on her knuckles. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. May I be so bold as to ask how this happened?”  
  
“Of course, you silly man,” Narcissa laughed again, “but first, you release my betrothed!”  
  
Hermione couldn’t help but grin at the playful banter between the two. Rafael released her hand as asked but threw himself dramatically into the nearest chair, arm draped across his forehead. “Are there no beautiful women who will ever look my way?” he moaned pitifully.  
  
Still laughing, Narcissa replied, “There have been no shortage of beautiful women looking your way, Rafe, but you only ever seem to have eyes for the beautiful men.”  
  
He, too, burst out laughing and Hermione couldn’t help but chuckling along a bit.  
  
“Oh, Narcissa Black, it really has been too long.”  
  
The old friends looked at one another for a long moment, still smiling, appreciating being in one another’s presence after such a time.  
  
Finally, Narcissa took a deep breath and squeezed the shoulders beneath her arm. “I agree that it has been entirely too long and I promise that we’ll have you to the Manor for dinner soon, we are actually here for some assistance.”  
  
“I’m going to hold you to that dinner,” Rafael said, pointing at the women. “Now, what do you need?”  
  
Narcissa turned to Hermione, encouraging the younger woman to speak what was on her mind.  
  
“Well, um, we’re going to put an Engagement Announcement in The Daily Prophet tomorrow and we came to have it done here, on the Place Cachée, but we want to include a photo and we aren’t really camera ready today. Do you have dress robes here that would complement one another and look good in a newsprint?”  
  
He made a face that Hermione assumed meant he thought their Engagement Announcement was a cute idea and asked them to have a seat while he put a rack together. After a few moments, he called out from somewhere behind them in the store, “Are you sure you want dress robes for the photo? I can put you in great muggle outfits similar to Hermione’s style right now.”  
  
Hermione looked at Narcissa, eyebrows up. She didn’t really have a preference, she wanted Narcissa to be happy and feel confident and comfortable.  
  
“We’d like to go with both options, actually!” she shouted back.  
  
“I knew you’d say that,” Rafael said from right next to her as he appeared with an actual clothing rack filled with choices.  
  
Narcissa, grinning, looked at Hermione just in time to watch the color drain from her face.  
  
“Not a fan of shopping?”  
  
“Not particularly,” Hermione hedged, “and that looks like an awful lot of trying on.”  
  
“Darling, it’s not. Listen, I love to shop. I think it’s fun to try on different robes and gowns. What if I try on the robes that we think will work best and, once we’ve narrowed down my choices, we can find just a few for you that would go with those? That limits your having to try everything on but I still get to and it guarantees that our robes will complement one another.”  
  
“Oh, Cissa, that sounds much better to me,” Hermione leaned forward to capture the other woman’s lips in a heartfelt kiss.  
  
“Good! Then I shall start with...the green one, of course,” Narcissa laughed.  
  
As she tried on the various styles of dress robes in a few different colors, Hermione explained the Replenishment Decree to Rafael.  
  
“So, I’m sorry, I’m not understanding something. Your government actually told everyone that you have to be married now and you have to produce children immediately?” Rafael was bewildered.  
  
“Yes! It’s absolutely unacceptable! Women are not here to be treated like baby-making facto--” Hermione stopped speaking mid-word.  
  
Rafael turned to see what had happened and realized Hermione was staring slack-jawed in the direction of the fitting rooms. Smiling gently at the adorable reaction, Rafael turned to see Narcissa himself.  
  
“Narcissa,” Hermione rose out of her chair and moved slowly toward the woman frowning into the mirror, “you are a vision. These are the robes you should wear today for the photo. You look incredible.”  
  
Fully blushing, Narcissa turned to meet Hermione’s eyes. The younger woman’s pupils were dilated and Narcissa could see Hermione’s pulse fluttering in a vein in her neck.  
  
“You like this look?” She was still self-conscious. One could not, after all, live with a creature like Lucius Malfoy and not lose a little confidence.  
  
“To be clear,” Hermione said, “I like you. And you, in anything, are beautiful. But these robes do add a nearly ethereal quality to your beauty. I love the cut out in the back that shows your skin and the subtle green shimmer on the black robes is perfect for you.”  
  
“I want to kiss you right now,” Narcissa said, reaching for Hermione’s hands.  
  
“Hold onto it!” Rafael interrupted, “I know you want to kiss her. She wants to kiss you, too but save it for the photos, ladies. We need to build a little tension to get a great engagement shoot.”  
  
Stepping back, Narcissa questioned, “We?”  
  
“Yes, we.” Rafael smiled as if he had a secret, “Don’t you remember our photo studio in the back? We’ve been doing more and more advertisements lately. I can take your announcement photos and develop them right here. Now. Hermione. Go try these two robes on. Do the green first because you’re going to like the black one better. Don’t argue just go.”  
  
Hermione listened.  
  
Rafael was right.  
  
He clapped his hands together twice, “Perfect! Now, let’s fix your hair a little nicer, ladies, and take some photos in these gorgeous robes! Then we’ll get you in some street clothes and finish up.”

“Hermione just pretend,” Rafael rolled his eyes.  
  
“I can’t,” she said, crossing her arms more tightly across her exposed midriff, Hermione’s brow furrowed and her lips drew together in a scowl. “The robes were formal but I felt like I’d done it before.”  
  
“Raf, if she isn’t comfortable, she can’t just fake it. She’s not an experienced model. Hermione, if you don’t want to wear that for the photographs, just go put your own shirt back on. I thought you looked great today, remember? And I think our muggle clothes still balance each other out whichever shirt you choose.” Narcissa stood close to Hermione, speaking quietly to her.  
  
Rafael had taken Hermione’s shirt and replaced it with a white crop top to go under her black leather jacket. She still had on the same jeans and boots from earlier. Narcissa had found her own leather jacket - black, also, of course - and had put a flowing white top underneath paired with dark jeans though she stood barefoot at the moment.  
  
Smiling a tiny grin, and tilting her head, Hermione asked which top Narcissa thought looked better.  
  
“I think they convey two different messages. The other top tells people you’re still Hermione Granger, Brains of the Golden Trio. You’re the same sensible girl they think you are.” Narcissa paused, stepping even closer to whisper into Hermione’s ear, “But this top tells them you’re all grown up, darling. This one tells people you haven’t just got a good head on your shoulders but you’re not afraid to use it.” Narcissa’s hand slid down Hermione’s arm and she laced their fingers together as if they were about to start dancing. “If you can convince yourself to feel powerful in this outfit, Hermione. It won’t just be a spark we light but a whole damn torch.”  
  
Unbeknownst to either woman, Rafael had his photographer take a number of photos of the two of them talking in that moment. Hermione’s heels put her nearer to Narcissa’s shoeless height and they seemed to forget the men were in the room when they spoke to one another.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes once more and pressed her forehead gently to Narcissa’s. Narcissa wrapped her free arm carefully around Hermione’s waist and started humming.  
  
Hermione pulled her head back and opened her eyes to meet Narcissa’s ice blue ones. “Dance with me, Hermione. Just a little.”  
  
“You are far too charming, Mistress Black. Far too charming,” the younger woman teased as she moved with Narcissa’s body.  
  
After a few turns around the set, their dancing grew silly and Narcissa spun Hermione out and back into her arms only to dip the younger woman back and place a sweet kiss on her neck as Hermione laughed heartily.  
  
“Okay, dear, I should probably find some shoes so we can take a few photos and get this done,” Narcissa said regretfully as she righted Hermione.  
  
Rafael blushed and looked away before shrugging and admitting that they had taken a ton of pictures of them while they spoke and danced. “Honestly, I doubt we’ll get anything better. Let us develop these while you two go see the sights of Place Cachée. Come back in a little while and Paulo should have something for you.”  
  
“What do you say, Hermione? Would you rather go put your shirt back on and take some more pictures?”  
  
Hermione stepped back and turned away from everyone for a moment to think. Hands wringing, she turned back and spoke, “I’m not very comfortable in this top just standing here but, honestly, I wasn’t thinking about it at all while I danced with you, Narcissa. Let’s go to a few shops and come back later to see what the photographs look like.”  
  
“Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to coerce you into something you’ll regret,” Narcissa said quietly.  
  
Hermione smiled softly and shook her head. “No, I don’t regret anything. Thank you for the clothing and taking the photos, we’ll see you in a bit. Let’s go for a walk.” She held her hand out to the other woman and laughed when she looked down at Narcissa’s bare feet, “I guess let’s go for a walk after you find a pair of shoes to wear?”

Once the women made it out to the street they walked slowly, hands linked and enjoyed some simple window shopping and spending time together. Hermione loved all the old buildings and plaques marking historical events in France’s magical history. After half an hour spent in Le Corbeau Mystique looking for an owl of the species Harry wanted, Narcissa reminded Hermione that they had their own errand to take care of.  
  
“I thought we did? Rafael and Paulo are developing the photos, right?”  
  
“Yes but they won’t write up the announcement or design the way it’s going to look in The Prophet. For that, if you’re amenable, I’d like to visit Le Stylo est Plu Puissant on the next street over.”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t realize. Yes, let’s go,” Hermione smiled.  
  
The women made their way through a crowd watching a street performer and turned into the shop. As the door closed behind them, Hermione took a deep breath and sank into the most relaxed posture Narcissa had seen from her all day.  
  
“What just happened?”  
  
“I love this smell,” Hermione admitted, flushing with embarrassment. “Ink and parchment and book bindings and melting wax.”  
  
Narcissa scratched her nose to hide her grin; she found Hermione’s quirks ridiculously adorable.  
  
“As do I, Mademoiselle,” said a mousy little woman from behind a large, wooden desk. “How may I help you?” Her accent was much thicker than Rafael’s and Hermione was reminded so strongly of Fleur Delacour she almost missed the other woman.  
  
“Madame du Beaumont, bonjour,” Narcissa said respectfully before continuing in English for Hermione’s benefit, “my fiancée, Hermione Granger, and I, Narcissa Black, are here to request the printing of an Engagement Announcement, Invitations, and Thank You notes for our wedding ceremony on the twenty-first of December. We would be greatly honored to have them printed here, at Le Stylo est Plu Puissant, for the pen is surely mightier.”  
  
Hermione, wide-eyed, was looking back and forth between Narcissa and the tiny woman at the desk. She was utterly bewildered at the subservient tone and gracious request.  
  
“And why should I do such a thing for two witches of the British empire?”  
  
“We humbly acknowledge that there is not a printing shop in the United Kingdom, or Europe, that can match the beauty of your work. We also hope to be an example for others to live their lives as they wish, seeking only the approval of their own selves and the certainty in their own souls that they are doing what is best for them.”  
  
Hermione understood there was some political history here to which she was not privy. Though determined to ask Narcissa about it later, she hoped to merely continue observing.  
  
“And you, young woman? You agree that we are the best?”  
  
“I agree with Narcissa’s statements and support her request to have our wedding needs printed here,” Hermione gulped, hoping she met the challenge.  
  
“You are aware, Narcissa Black, that I personally declined the invitation request 18 years ago, are you not?”  
  
“I am,” Narcissa said with a nod.  
  
“Yet you come asking again? And for a different spouse. I see I was right back then not to print for you. What makes you think this will be any different?”  
  
Hermione could feel Narcissa tense up and watched her eyes fill with tears. No matter how hard she tried to bite her lips together, Hermione couldn’t remain silent. She stepped in front of her fiancée and spoke quickly, “By the very nature of who we are as people, this union is different. Narcissa has a choice whether or not to marry me. We are both adults making this decision for ourselves. I will never disrespect or dishonor Narcissa or her position in my life. If you decline our request, so be it, but let it be because I’m not worthy to have it done here. Don’t blame your current reticence on abuse Narcissa has taken in her past, it’s barbaric.”  
  
“Mademoiselle Granger, was it?”  
  
Hermione nodded, feeling Narcissa step closer to her back. The taller woman rested her right hand on Hermione’s right hip and waited for the printer to speak again.  
  
Madame du Beaumont came around her imposing desk and stood facing Hermione and Narcissa, “Do you understand why I would not abide your fiancée’s request eighteen years ago?”  
  
“No, Madame. We haven’t discussed her first wedding beyond it being arranged for her by her parents.”  
  
“There was a war brewing in magical Britain. There were forces at work who were trying to pull from old alliances and drag us all into the melee. The Houses of Malfoy and Black were, to my knowledge, on the wrong side of that war. Had I agreed to provide any services for that wedding it would have been seen as support for their side.”  
  
“Which, honestly, Madame, makes perfect sense. However, these are different times. Britain’s just beaten Voldemort for good because of Narcissa’s bravery, might I add,” Hermione reached behind with her left hand and tangled her fingers with Narcissa’s. “We do humbly make our request.”  
  
“Hmm. You call me barbaric but humbly request my services,” the shop owner mused quietly, “I must say, I do appreciate the protective nature you’ve shown, Mademoiselle Granger, and the poetic description of why you came here, Mademoiselle Black. Certainty of their souls that they are doing what is best for them.” Looking out the window, Madame du Beaumont tapped her fingers along her lip before nodding to herself. “Oui, I will print your requests. When is the wedding?”  
  
“Thank you, Madame,” Narcissa offered quietly, “we are honored. Our wedding will be held on the Winter Solstice, December the twenty-first.”  
  
“You live in Britain and the wedding is only three and a half months away so we will do your Announcement today before you go home. I need photographs. We will include the date,” the printer was very business-like in her tone once her decision to print had been made. “Have you selected a location?”  
  
“We have not,” Narcissa answered, “nor have we asked anyone yet to preside. We have had photos taken, just up the road in fact. We can get them and bring them back for you now if you’d like them while you work?”  
  
“Yes, quickly now, I have a concept.” With that, the mousy little woman turned and sat back at her desk quickly pulling out parchment and a variety of inkwells and quills.  
  
Narcissa tugged Hermione onto the sidewalk with her but before they even took a step toward Maison Capenoir she wrapped her arms tightly around Hermione’s waist. Reflexively, Hermione wrapped hers around Narcissa’s shoulders, “While I have come to completely adore hugging you, Narcissa, I have to ask what this is for?”  
  
Narcissa sniffled, her face pressed into Hermione’s neck, “I don’t know if it’s just Harry’s Hero Complex or not but you just keep coming to my defense. No one. No one else in my entire life has done that Hermione. I was ready to apologize to Madame du Beaumont and leave but you spoke up for me.”  
  
Tears sprang to Hermione’s eyes. How had no one ever made this woman feel worthy of defense? No wonder she was the lone wolf who won the war; her allegiance could only be held by the one person who never betrayed her, her son.  
  
“Narcissa,” Hermione whispered into the other woman’s ear, “I am so sorry you’ve had thirty-six years of being undefended. I will speak up for you whenever you can’t. I will not betray you. It’s the very foundation of friendship to defend and protect one another.”  
  
Friendship? We’re getting married in three months, Narcissa thought.  
  
Hermione pressed a kiss to Narcissa’s temple before they pulled apart and walked side by side back to Rafael’s shop.  
  
Rafael was obviously waiting for them when the women walked back into Maison Capenoir. He squealed and clapped his hands in excitement as he begged them to hurry into the back to see their photos and listen to his idea.  
  
Laid out on the counter were far more pictures than they would use in the paper, it looked like they had developed forty or fifty photographs!  
  
“I know, I know, it’s too much,” Paulo said, “but you two are a gorgeous couple.”  
  
Without even realizing it, as they looked at the photos together, Narcissa and Hermione had shifted into one another’s personal space. When Hermione looked up at Rafael across the counter she realized she had her arm back around Narcissa’s waist and the other woman had done the same. Deciding to just enjoy feeling comfortable, Hermione smiled up at her fiancée and asked which photo was her favorite.  
  
“I couldn’t possibly choose,” Narcissa laughed, “I think this one, looking at each other in formal robes with the fog around the floor and the edges is stunning but I can’t help but smile when I look at this one where you’re laughing so hard after we danced and I dipped you.”  
  
“I love those, too, and this one.” Hermione picked up a photo of them with the foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, just breathing. Even with the magical development, the only movement in the photo was the barely perceptible rise and fall of their chests.  
  
“Oh, goodness, yes,” Narcissa exhaled as she carefully took the photo from Hermione’s hand.  
  
“Are you ready to hear my idea?” Rafael asked. When the women nodded, he continued, “I think you should use a bunch of photos for the Announcement, not just the traditional formal shot. You two aren’t traditional, are you?”  
  
Chuckling a little, Hermione answered, “Actually, we both kind of are but we know what you mean.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Rafael started moving the photos around, “I left them, sorry, Paulo, we left them haphazardly on the counter so as not to influence your choices but this is what I think the photo montage should look like.”  
  
When he was finished arranging, there was a lineup of eight images starting with a very formal photo of the witches standing side by side in their dress robes, not touching one another. Next to it was another image in their formal robes, but this time they were smiling at one another, it was followed by the photo Narcissa had pointed out a few moments earlier where they were surrounded by fog and were only looking at one another. As the witches in the photos shifted, they maintained similar poses. The next series of photos was in their muggle clothes and, Narcissa had to admit, they made for a very photogenic couple. In the first one, Hermione was seated, looking down and pulling on her shoe while Narcissa stood behind her, one hand gently playing with her hair and a happy, little smile on her face. The next picture was of the two of them talking, Hermione’s hands wrapped around her own midsection before she grins a little at the other woman and playfully reaches out to grasp Narcissa’s hips as the older woman whispers in her ear. Following that was a picture of the two of them starting to dance, both smiling shyly at the other before stepping closer to press their cheeks together. The second to last image was of Narcissa spinning Hermione out and back into her arms and then dipping her and kissing her neck while Hermione laughed joyfully and it was followed by the final image, the one of them resting their foreheads together and just breathing.  
  
Leaning even more into one another, the witches both nodded. Finally, Narcissa spoke, “Rafael, Paulo, this is absolutely perfect. We can’t thank you enough.”  
  
“Did Claudette agree to print for you? Are you taking these to her?” Paulo asked, wide-eyed.  
  
Narcissa answered in the affirmative, sharing her shock that Claudette du Beaumont had taken their request, as Hermione looked more closely at the photographs they wouldn’t be using for their Engagement Announcement.  
  
“Can we keep these?” she asked when the conversation lulled.  
  
“You may take all of these photographs, Mademoiselle Granger. Don’t mix them up, Claudette is a tough cookie but your Announcement will be a masterpiece. I recommend getting your own copy to frame.”  
  
“What a lovely idea, I think we shall!” Narcissa smiled. “Now, can you send this bill to my account at Le Banque du Magique or shall I go take some Bezant out?”  
  
“I still have your account here active, Narcissa, no concerns about money,” Rafael answered, “Now, get those photos to Claudette before she comes here for them herself!”  
  
As the women exited the shop, laughing at Rafael’s silliness, he called out, “And we expect to be invited!”

The women quietly re-entered Le Stylo est Plus Puissant to give Madame du Beaumont the photos and found her waiting with a smile on her face. “Your Announcement practically created itself once I sat down, now, let me see your photo.”  
  
Narcissa took a deep breath and raised her chin to answer, “Madame, we have a less-than-traditional idea we would like to present with our photos if we may?”  
  
Holding her hand out for the photos, the mousy woman nodded.  
  
“Instead of one formal photograph, we would like our announcement to have a photo montage starting with the traditional side-by-side pose and then showing seven other images from a photo session we did this afternoon with Rafael and Paulo.”  
  
One eyebrow raised, Claudette slowly looked through the photographs in her hand smiling when she saw the print of Hermione laughing as Narcissa dipped her and pressing her hand to her heart as she looked long at the image of the two witches standing forehead to forehead simply breathing together.  
  
“Yes. I will put this together. This is beautiful, absolutely stunning imagery. I used your words from earlier to write up the Announcement, embellishing a little here and there for more prose.”  
  
“Thank you, Madame,” Hermione said politely.  
  
“Before I finish, I just have one question.”  
  
The couple waited, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Narcissa, how do you feel about this engagement?”  
  
Taken aback by the unexpected query, Narcissa took a moment to gather her thoughts. She finally spoke, “I choose, of my own free will, to marry this woman. To become Hermione Granger’s wife. She is kind and pure and noble, able to look past my faults and see the good I have tried to do. She has a heart like no other and...and…” Narcissa swallowed, “and I have a deep certainty in my soul that I am living life in the best way I can with the best person.” Looking down, Narcissa went over what she had just said again, “Yes, the absolute best person.”  
  
She looked up to see that Madame du Beaumont had already seated herself back behind her desk and was working once more; when she looked at Hermione, she found the other woman smiling tremulously. Narcissa leaned in to quickly kiss Hermione but the younger woman slid her hand up Narcissa’s arm and around the back of her neck to tangle in her hair and hold her in place.  
  
When they parted, Hermione quietly thanked Narcissa.  
  
“Do not leave!” Claudette said, “I shall finish momentarily!”

Hermione used the time to look carefully around the front of the shop at the beautiful parchments on display while Narcissa simply watched Hermione.  
  
“Ah, here you go, ladies,” Claudette said holding out an Announcement that could go directly to The Daily Prophet, “I implore you to read it for accuracy before it is sent to your wizarding press.”  
  
“It’s perfect,” Hermione breathed, having not read a single sentence. She loved the stunning design, an eye-catching mix of fonts framed the changing photos of them women.  
  
“It is completely marvelous,” Narcissa agreed, her eyes lingering on Hermione’s smiling face in one image. She handed the parchment back to its creator and asked what they had to do next.  
  
“Nothing. I will send your Announcement to The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler immediately for printing tomorrow. I will also, if you wish, submit it to Le Cri de La Gargouille for printing here in France?” Narcissa nodded and Claudette continued, “I will work on your invitations shortly and send a sample this week. You need to respond with approval or request for change, please note, this is quite a shortened time period to print three hundred invitations, if you have requests for changes they need to come back quickly. You must owl me with your venue and all of the details of your ceremony and reception in the next few days. Any delay on your part will not give your guests time to respond and plan for your nuptials.”  
  
“Understood, Madame. We will work on those decisions this weekend, thank you,” Narcissa replied.  
  
“Look for my owl,” Claudette said, making her way back around her desk to continue working.  
  
Just before the door closed, Hermione heard, “Congratulations, by the way. You make quite an impressive couple.”  
  
She turned, smiling widely at Narcissa. “We do, don’t we?”  
  
Narcissa smiled, nodding, before she spoke, “Shall we head back to the dock and go home?”  
  
Hermione blushed a bit and looked away, “Well, actually, Cissa, I was rather thinking we might stay in France for the night. At Le Maison de Black?”  
  
Narcissa paused, looking at Hermione’s pink cheeks and the way the younger woman was biting her lip. She stepped forward quickly to hug her fiancée and quietly offered, “I’m sorry, dear. We have to give the house elves a little more preparation time than just a few hours if we’re going to stay the night. They’ve been working in Black Manor in London and haven’t freshened up the Manor over here lately. We will have to come back shortly, however, to check on our invitations and make sure Rafael has been paid...can we stay over then?”  
  
“I look forward to it.”


	7. The Plot Thickens

Saturday morning found Hermione wide awake and nervously tidying up her rooms too anxious to sleep or even sit still. When Harry passed her door on his way downstairs for tea he tapped lightly just to make sure his friend knew he was awake. Hermione didn’t respond so Harry continued with his typical morning routine collecting the papers, checking for the post, and heading into the kitchen. Unbeknownst to him, Hermione had quietly followed him down and was waiting silently outside the kitchen to hear his reaction to their Engagement Announcement.  
  
She heard him sit down and snap the paper open and, within a few minutes, he chuckled quietly.  
  
Hermione pushed the door open and stood just inside the kitchen biting her lip and wringing her hands. “Well? How does it look? It’s not creased is it?”  
  
“Hermione, it’s gorgeous. Really well done. The pictures of you two are stunning, where did you have them done? I wouldn’t even know where to go for that kind of thing!” He handed her the paper, her own face staring back from the front page...above the fold!  
  
“Oh, after the Gallery yesterday morning we went to Place Cachée in Paris for the afternoon. We ended up buying the robes and having our photos taken and then we went to this woman’s shop and convinced her to do our announcement and invitations and stuff.”  
  
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Just Paris for the afternoon, no big deal.”  
  
“Not like that!” Hermione sat next to him reading over the Announcement in the paper. “Narcissa has a Manor outside Paris that’s been in the Black family for years, we didn’t go there yesterday but she’s quite familiar with Place Cachée and there was a particular shop she was keen to have our printing done. We went by wizard ferry out of Brighton actually and it was quite lovely.”  
  
Harry smirked at Hermione before taking a big sip of his tea to hide his face.  
  
“What?” She demanded.  
  
Tilting his head at her, Harry shrugged his shoulders with feigned indifference and casually said, “It seems, by the pink in your cheeks, you had quite a lovely day is all.”  
  
Narrowing her eyes, Hermione carefully placed The Prophet on the table and thought about how to answer her dear friend. Finally, she spoke, “You know, Harry, we really did have a lovely time together. It’s been a very intense few days with Narcissa and totally unexpected. She’s a stunningly beautiful woman who has been focused almost completely on me which is it’s own heady kind of intoxication. On top of that, we’ve formed this fierce pact against the ministry overreach with one another and that just adds to the bond.”  
  
“I just worry that when this is all done you’re going to be left with a marriage you don’t really want to a woman you don’t really want.”  
  
Swallowing hard, Hermione looked away before answering, “I don’t think you need to worry. Narcissa and I know what we’re getting into. Regardless of the Ministry’s Order, we both chose to marry one another of our own free will and with good faith in the other. It’s been only a few days, Harry, it’s far too soon to talk about what things will look like for us in a year or two but I could still tell you with a deep certainty in my soul that if, in two years, I’m still married to Narcissa Black, I’ll be happy...and well cared for...and honored.”  
  
Harry simply covered Hermione’s hand with his own and smiled at his best friend.  
  
The two were content to sit together in comfortable silence and read the morning papers through, commenting on the new pairs that were announced until they were interrupted by an owl tapping at the window.  
  
“Paionia,” Hermione said with a smile letting the little bird in and taking the letter from her. When the owl flew in and sat in front of Harry, Hermione realized she must need an answer and opened the letter from Narcissa. 

My Dear Hermione,  
  
I’d like to discuss an urgent social situation with you. Please let me know if I may call on you shortly at your flat? I do apologize for interrupting your morning.  
  
Your future wife,  
  
Narcissa 

“Narcissa’s coming over as soon as Paionia gets this letter back to her,” Hermione told Harry as she wrote a hasty of course, come right away, you have a key to her fiancée.  
  
“All right, then?”  
  
“I’m not actually sure. We had nothing planned formally; I had intended to owl Professor McGonagall today but Narcissa said she’d like to discuss an urgent social situation and asked if she could come shortly. We do, in fact, have to make some decisions this weekend regarding our wedding. Maybe it’s that?”  
  
Harry stared into space for a long moment while Hermione cleaned up her teacup. “It’s probably something to do with Draco being assigned Runcorn’s widow. We’ve got to figure that out right away. I thought we could take care of it at brunch tomorrow but maybe they’ve come up with a better idea.”  
  
Hermione nodded distractedly and went to brush her teeth before waiting in the foyer.

Startled at the unexpected knocking, Hermione peeked outside before rushing to let Narcissa inside.  
  
“You really are welcome to use your key, Narcissa,” she told her as she opened the door, “I, oh! What’s the matter? You’ve been crying?” Hermione pulled the other woman into the foyer and then quickly into a tight hug.  
“I’m sorry to just barge in like this,” Narcissa said, shuddering.  
  
“Nonsense. We’re going to be married, Narcissa, you should come to me when you’re upset.”  
  
Sighing, Narcissa tried to put her thoughts in order, “Hermione. We’ve been...engaged...for only a matter of days.”  
  
“Technically that may be true,” Hermione pressed a kiss to the side of Narcissa’s face, “but as far as everyone else knows, we’ve been seeing one another for months. Your divorce was finalized in, what, early June?”  
  
“Late May, in fact, and the official term is a dissolution, not a divorce.”  
  
“Okay, your dissolution was finalized in late May, so let’s go with June first for us, then, yeah?”  
  
“What?” Narcissa leaned back and looked at Hermione’s face.  
  
“Yep. We got together quickly after your dissolution. You’d been so unhappy for years in your marriage and had been treated so poorly by Lucius and I didn’t even know it but I was looking for someone who would understand what I’d seen and been through, as well. We ran into one another a few times in May at Andromeda’s place and ended up talking for hours each time.” Hermione’s eyes had caught Narcissa’s and neither woman was looking away.  
  
“When my marriage was finally dissolved with that cretin, Lucius, we realized we had a natural connection between us. Instead of simply running into one another at Andromeda’s, we started planning to have lunches and dinners together at one another’s residence, not yet ready to face the public.”  
  
“You deserved an opportunity for autonomy.”  
  
“And you for anonymity.”  
  
“But because of the Decree…”  
  
“Neither of us got it.”  
  
Hermione wound her hand through the hair at the back of Narcissa’s neck and tugged the woman closer, whispering, “Narcissa?”  
  
“Mmhmm.”  
  
“I’m going to make a request of you right now,” Hermione kept whispering into Narcissa’s ear.  
  
The other woman nodded with a shiver.  
  
“One day, after we’re married, I want you to remind me of this moment. I want you to remind me of this story and these words and I want you to ask me, demand I tell you, what I want to tell you right now.” Hermione wrapped her other arm more tightly around Narcissa’s waist, pulling their bodies against one another before continuing, “I just want you to wait until after we’re married, okay? Promise?”  
  
Leaning back to press her forehead against Hermione’s and memorizing everything about the moment, Narcissa placed her hands gently on either side of Hermione’s face and promised, sealing the oath with a kiss.  
  
“Now,” Hermione took command, “tell me what’s going on.”  
  
“Oh, Hermione,” Narcissa’s eyes filled with tears immediately, “I’m afraid I’m being rather foolish.”  
  
Shaking her head, Hermione pulled the other woman with her to sit in front of the fireplace.  
  
“Draco’s getting married.”  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked intently at Narcissa before answering in the affirmative.  
  
“No, I mean, Draco’s getting married tonight.”  
  
“Oh, my! So, he won’t be marrying Mrs. Runcorn then?”  
  
“No, he’s not. Though just the fact that she’s who they assigned him has me all twisted up. I know he took the Dark Mark and I know it looks bad but he wasn’t even of age. They’re going to punish my son for the rest of his life for the sins of his parents,” Narcissa was crying again.  
  
“Oh, dear,” Hermione hugged Narcissa to herself and leaned back in a fair approximation of how they'd spent the other afternoon. “First of all, the Wizengamot won’t be in power like this forever. We’re working on that right now, aren’t we? Second, Draco will not be paying for his father’s sins - not yours, mind you - forever. Lucius shall pay for his own sins in Azkaban and we shall remind the powers that be of that fact as often as necessary to keep your son safer. Third, let’s put our minds together to find a way to remove the Mark from Draco’s arm. I know it’ll fade in time but maybe we can make it fade more quickly.”  
  
Narcissa’s tears slowly dried up and she acknowledged that Hermione was right, of course. “I haven’t heard of anyone who was able to remove their Dark Mark, though. It’s supposed to be permanent.”  
  
“Well, so is the killing curse and yet here I stand...again,” Harry joked as he entered the sitting room.  
  
Hermione smiled at her friend, appreciating his well timed entrance and seeing what was in his hand.  
  
“Good morning, Mister Potter,” Narcissa said formally, sitting up, cheeks tinting pink.  
  
“Miss Black,” he smiled.  
  
“I apologize for intruding on you so early, but I needed to tell Hermione something and I didn’t want to use the owl post and have any misunderstandings.”  
  
Harry glanced at Hermione before answering and found her watching Narcissa speak with a happy, little smile on her face.  
  
“It’s no problem, you’re welcome any time. You have a key, right?”  
  
“I do,” Narcissa smiled at Harry, “thank you.”  
  
He quickly tucked his hands behind his back, grinning mischievously. “So, Miss Black, have you seen the paper this morning? Quite an interesting little...announcement.”  
  
“Do you have it there? I haven’t even looked at the papers yet, do let me see, please,” she reached out for the paper in Harry’s hand which he handed over with an indulgent grin.  
  
Narcissa carefully laid the newsprint on the coffee table in front of them and gasped quietly when she saw their announcement on top of the front page.  
  
“Oh, Hermione,” she breathed out, resting her left hand atop Hermione’s right leg, “you’re so beautiful.” Narcissa traced the other woman’s face in one of the images before it changed.  
  
“Me?” Hermione said, blushing once again, “Have you looked at yourself?” Hermione leaned against her fiancée, resting her temple on Narcissa’s shoulder and linking her arm with the other woman’s. “I love all the bits of our conversation she included and how they’re just little floating fragments.”  
  
“You just said some of those things to me this morning, ‘Mione,” Harry added, “That you choose of your own free will to marry Narcissa and that you have a deep certainty in your soul that you’ll be happy together.”  
  
After a moment, Narcissa asked, “Have you finished with today’s paper? Can we take this one to frame it?” She looked away, trying to subtly wipe a stray tear from her right eye.  
  
“Sorry,” Harry frowned, “I haven’t finished yet.” He carefully took the paper back and laid it on an end table.  
  
Hermione cleared her throat and brought the topic back around to Draco and what his plan was.  
  
Narcissa’s eyes immediately grew watery again. “I’m so sorry I’m being so emotional about this,” she pressed her cool hands to her warm cheeks and moved to stand next to the fireplace.  
  
“It’s fine, he’s your only child, you’re allowed to be emotional, just tell us what’s going on,” Hermione implored.  
  
“He’s getting married. Tonight.”  
  
Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Not to Runcorn’s widow, then?”  
  
“No. To Dean Thomas.”  
  
The room was silent.  
  
“I’m sorry. I must’ve heard incorrectly. I thought you said Dean Thomas?”  
  
“I did. Dean and Draco are getting married tonight in Hogsmeade.”  
  
Hermione’s face scrunched up and she looked down at the floor. “I’m a little confused; I didn’t think Dean was gay.”  
  
“He’s not,” Harry smiled, “Draco isn’t either. This is how they’re fighting back. They’ve both been paired with witches they’re not keen to wed and neither of them trust the Ministry to re-pair them with someone they prefer so they’re taking matters into their own hands.”  
  
“You think?” Hermione asked him.  
  
“I do. Draco is extremely cunning and he was gutted to be assigned Mrs. Runcorn. Marrying Dean gets him out of marrying a witch and producing children because, even though reproductive magic has come a very long way for witches, it hasn’t kept up for wizards. What I don’t understand, Mistress Black, is why you’re so upset? We knew we were sparking a rebellion, did we not?”  
  
Hermione looked sharply at Harry, frowning.  
  
“Yes, of course. I’m just sad for my son, that he won’t be marrying for love. He’s marrying for politics, just like I was forced to do all those years ago. It’s a terrible thing the Ministry has done.”  
  
Hermione had risen to move closer to Narcissa but halted, unsure of her reception. Narcissa reached out for the younger woman, entwining their fingers.  
  
“And,” Narcissa continued, “I feel a little guilty.” She tugged gently to get Hermione to move closer. “Because this may have started as a way to fight back against the Ministry and their ridiculous decree but it’s turning out that I feel quite lucky to have wound up with you.”  
  
“I feel the same way,” Hermione whispered back.  
  
After a moment, Harry spoke again, “Is there anything I can do to help with tonight’s wedding?”  
  
Narcissa heaved a great sigh and shook her head, “I don’t know. It’s not going to be a very big affair. Draco and Dean are the Manor now trying to contact a few people and keep it off the Wizengamot’s radar until it’s finished.”  
  
Hermione gently rubbed her hand up and down Narcissa’s back, “Do you think they would try to stop them?”  
  
“They think so. Technically they’re both defying a Ministerial Decree tonight.”  
  
“Are they though?” Asked Harry.  
  
“I’m afraid so,” Hermione agreed, “The decree states that Ministry officials will assign marriage partners to all unwed witches and wizards of legal, child-bearing age. All such arrangements must wed before 2 January 1999.”  
  
“Right, unwed witches and wizards. So if Draco and Dean are wed, then the Ministry can’t assign them another partner.”  
  
“However, they were unwed when their partners were assigned. The best thing would be if Runcorn’s widow and Dean’s assigned partner were to wed other people or flat out refuse to marry anyone. It would protect Draco,” Hermione said.  
  
Harry stood and spoke quietly, “Don’t take this the wrong way. Do we want to protect Draco?”  
  
Immediately Narcissa straightened to her full - and rather imposing - height, “I’m going to assume you meant that differently than it sounded. Please clarify yourself.”  
  
Hermione, hands on her hips, agreed.  
  
“Listen, both of you,” Harry put his hands up, palms forward, “I’m friends with Draco, remember? I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, either. It sounds like he’s marrying Dean for the sole purpose of fighting the Decree. We don’t want to protect everyone from the Ministry’s reaction to that. We want to expose the Wizengamot for the old toads they are, right? Trying to take away our free will? The best thing would be, in my opinion, for Dean and Draco to be confronted about it tomorrow by the Ministry. They can go on record as saying they got married much sooner than they would ever have wanted to in their relationship but, with the Ministry trying to force them to each marry someone else, they felt they had no choice.”  
  
“Yes,” Hermione agreed quickly, “and if the Ministry pushes back about having children it opens the door for us to all step up and remind them we aren’t livestock here for them to mate and breed at will.”  
  
“Too true,” Narcissa agreed.  
  
“Let’s go back to the Manor and see if Draco and Dean need any help,” Hermione said quietly to Narcissa.  
  
“Thank you, dear,” Narcissa squeezed Hermione’s hand and turned to speak to Harry again, “You’ll come tonight, won’t you? Hogsmeade, the courtyard outside the Three Broomsticks at six.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Harry assured her.  
  
“Before we go, I was thinking about something else, actually,” Narcissa said in a timid voice.  
  
The other two looked at her expectantly, heads tilted.  
  
“I believe you’ve said your fireplace is not connected to the British Floo Network, correct?”  
  
“Right,” Harry nodded, “I’ve had enough experience being spied on by the Ministry.”  
  
“Black Manor is also disconnected from it. We could, however, connect them to one another. It would be easier and safer than Disapparating all the time.”  
  
“We can do that without Ministry permission?” Hermione questioned.  
  
“There’s a loophole,” Narcissa smirked, “that allows us to connect our two residences because we’re engaged to be married. I’m sure at first it was to allow families to negotiate and plan in private and has simply been forgotten about.”  
  
Harry shrugged, “I don’t mind. If you’re able to perform the spell and no one else can use it to spy or gain entry to our flat or your Manor, it’s fine with me.”  
  
“And we don’t even have to inform the Ministry,” Narcissa reassured the other two, “it’s a private matter between the betrothed. I can do the enchantment on this end now and then, when we get to the Manor, Hermione will need to finish it there.”  
  
Harry and Hermione stepped away from the fireplace to allow Narcissa room to perform the spell. She brandished her wand, used the tip to outline the opening of the fireplace, and spoke, “Arcanum coniunc, Black Manor.” Storing her wand once more, Narcissa turned to Hermione.  
  
“That’s it?”  
  
“Yes, dear,” Narcissa chuckled.  
  
“But...it’s so simple. Why doesn’t everyone use it?”  
  
“A few reasons,” she said, taking Hermione’s hand in her own as she headed toward the door, “first, have you seen it anywhere? Second, there are certain qualifications which must be met, we must be betrothed, we must live at the residences we’re connecting, and those residences must not be connected to the Ministry network. Third, the Ministry has done their due diligence in silencing and routing out much of the Old Magic. You yourself thought I was going to cut your hand to allow you to open the gates at Black Manor. The Ministry has allowed Old Magic and pureblood rhetoric to get mixed up with Voldemort and the wars that have happened. Because of that, no one trusts the old ways any more and most people have, in fact, forgotten them.”  
  
“But you haven’t,” Hermione grinned.  
  
“Well, I have books.”  
  
Harry watched them go, oblivious to his presence and wrapped up in their own conversation. He marveled at how well suited to one another they really were.

“Remind me to pick up some Floo Powder next time we go out,” Hermione laughed, “I can’t believe it was that simple.”  
  
“Honestly, Hermione, so many of the old ways are simple. They draw from intent and natural magic more than words and wands.”  
  
“Mother,” they heard shouted from upstairs, “is that you?”  
  
Narcissa rolled her eyes and walked up the stairs, pausing halfway to motion to Hermione to follow. Once she was outside Draco’s study, she announced her presence.  
  
“Oh, Mrs. Malfoy - I mean Black!” Dean stood.  
  
“You may call me Narcissa. You are marrying my child tonight, after all,” Narcissa said, leaning against the door jamb.  
  
“Thank you, Narcissa,” he smiled.  
  
“Hi, boys!” Hermione said, tucking herself under Narcissa’s arm and into the woman’s side.  
  
“Hermione!” Dean nearly shouted, “I haven’t seen you in months! How are you?”  
  
“I’m doing really well, Dean, thanks. How have you been? How’s your mom and your sisters?”  
  
“Oh, they’re good, they’re all good, thanks. I’m doing well. Decided not to go back to Hogwarts this year to finish after all, ended up getting a job with Holyhead Harpies as their statistician! It’s actually a new role I’ve created myself.”  
  
“Dean that’s amazing,” Hermione complimented her friend, “and really perfect for you. You’ve always been a sport fan and you’ve got such an analytical mind.”  
  
“And it gives us a family pass into games for free,” Draco teased.  
  
“Speaking of,” Hermione starts, “how is everything looking for tonight? All set with everything? Anything we can help with?”  
  
Narcissa stood from leaning on the door to wrap her arm more securely around Hermione ‘s shoulder and was pleased to feel the younger woman do the same around her waist.  
  
“We were just about to go to Madam Malkin’s for formal robes. We spoke to Rosmerta about the courtyard and the catering yesterday. McGonagall is going to preside. We just don’t really have many guests,” Draco said.  
  
“Well, Harry’s coming,” Hermione answered brightly, “I could owl him and ask if he’ll get some people together to come.”  
  
“Maybe Neville?” Dean asked. “Seamus, Ron, Padma, Parvati, Lavender, any of our mates from Hogwarts would do.”  
  
“I’d rather not invite Mister Weasley if at all possible,” Narcissa requested.  
  
Hermione chimed in to explain, “He’s having rather a poor reaction to our engagement.” Then, turning to Narcissa, she continued, “I almost think seeing us together in public would temper his...temper...but I’d be terribly upset if it ruined the evening instead. He does need to get used to this, we’re not going anywhere, he’s going to see us together at some point.”  
  
“You’re right, of course, he does need to get used to this but perhaps at my son’s wedding isn’t the place?”  
  
Draco watched the interaction intently, not expecting to witness the closeness he was observing. “I think we need to be fair to Dean, too, though, and he and Ron were friends in school.”  
  
“Yeah, I mean, I guess we were. It actually doesn’t matter to me. He has a bit of a temper and if he’s going to cause any kind of problem we don’t want him there. Who do you want to invite, Draco? Pansy and Goyle?”  
  
“Yes, and a few others. I’ll ask Pansy to take care of it. Except Luna, she probably won’t know how to contact her. Do you think you could take care of that Hermione?”  
  
Smiling, she agreed.  
  
“Draco, I’m a little concerned that Madam Malkin won’t be able to fit formal robes for you so quickly. What will you do if she can’t?”  
  
“Mother, don’t worry. I think Dean and I are both fine with getting something simple and off the rack today. We’re not looking to be the height of wizarding fashion. This is quite literally going to look like a backyard wedding. You two will probably be the best dressed witches in sight.”  
  
Narcissa bristled.  
  
“Now, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Draco rushed, “I think you two should look good. Really, Dean and I are doing this to make a point. We aren’t getting married because we love each other and can’t imagine marrying someone else even though that’s what we’ll say if the Ministry asks. We’re doing this to show other people that there are options and that no matter how many Decrees they pass, the Ministry can never take our free will. We know the Ministry’s marriage laws inside and out and we have planned the verbiage and actions for tonight’s ceremony in exhaustive detail. That’s why we chose McGonagall, we know we can trust her to follow the script precisely. You two are a different story. A different spark, remember? You ARE selling your love story. You two should come tonight dressed to the nines and ready to have a great time together. Now that you no longer feel the need to hide your relationship, enjoy the spotlight, we’re counting on it being on you.”  
  
“Exactly,” Dean agreed with Draco, “I know you’ve only been together a few months but obviously you’re a great couple. It’s different with us.”  
  
“Okay,” Hermione agreed, “well, then, I’ll go owl Harry and we should choose our clothing for tonight. Will you be doing a rehearsal before the ceremony?”  
  
“We did that already yesterday. We just need to go get robes.”  
  
Narcissa and Hermione headed back downstairs to call Paionia and send the request to Harry. While they waited to hear back from him they sat in the kitchen, quietly sharing a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.  
  
“It’s interesting that Draco didn’t tell Dean the truth about us.”  
  
“I’ve been thinking about that, as well, but I think it was more about him protecting me than keeping it a secret,” Narcissa confided.  
  
“I can understand that,” Hermione, sitting next to Narcissa, turned to face the other woman, “we’ve only truly known each other for a matter of days and I constantly find myself wanting to protect you. I can’t imagine how strong that impulse will feel after eighteen years.”  
  
Narcissa felt her breath catch in her throat yet again. “God, Hermione, I want to kiss you right now,” she whispered, swaying toward the other woman.  
  
“Then why aren’t you?” Hermione leaned forward.  
  
Narcissa turned and wrapped both arms around Hermione, burying her face in the other woman’s neck, “I’m afraid.”  
  
“Of me?”  
  
“Of this, Hermione! Of us! It’s been four days. You make my heart pound. My breath catch. You make me lightheaded and my palms sweaty. I’ve never felt this way in my life. I never even knew I could. And if you felt this way, too, you’d be afraid and the fact that you’re not just makes it worse.”  
  
“Stop.” Hermione pulled back. “Stop now, Narcissa,” she placed her hands on either side of Narcissa’s face and looked right into those blue eyes. “I’m not afraid of this, it’s true. But not because I don’t feel all those things. I’m not terrified because I do feel all of that with you and it’s amazing. I love the way my heart pounds when you hold my hand and the way my breath catches right before you kiss me. The way your smile makes me lightheaded is it’s own special kind of magic and I didn’t even think it could exist. I don’t care if it’s been four days or three months or eternity because I’m feeling it now. And it’s incredible.” Hermione moved to sit sideways on Narcissa’s lap and spoke again, “so, kiss me, Narcissa. Every damn time you want to. Kiss me.”  
  
Long moments later, Hermione and Narcissa were interrupted by footsteps on the back stairs. Trying not to giggle, Hermione did her best to wipe away the smudges of lipstick around Narcissa’s mouth before Dean and Draco walked in. She was laughing too hard to be very successful, though, and it was quite clear what the two had been doing just moments earlier. Instead of being embarrassed, however, Draco simply smiled and said they were off to the robe shop and the pub for some lunch.  
  
With the boys gone, Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around Narcissa, settling more comfortable on her lap. “You know, Narcissa,” Hermione whispered, her nose pressed to the leonine neck she was holding, “I adore the smell of your perfume on you. Did you put it just here this morning?” The mischievous tone belied her faux innocence and Hermione pressed an open mouthed kiss against the pulse point beneath Narcissa’s ear. She deeply enjoyed the moan that drew from her partner and did it again.  
  
“God,” Narcissa groaned out, pushing Hermione back into her own chair, “I did put perfume just there this morning on that, apparently, particularly sensitive point on my neck. And seeing as how I have absolutely no intention of doing anything more physical than kissing you for the time being, there will be no more investigating where I dab my perfume. Thank you.”  
  
Hermione just bit her bottom lip and stared at Narcissa.  
  
“What? Did you hear me, Hermione?”  
  
Nodding quickly, Hermione reached up and gently gripped Narcissa’s chin in her thumb and forefinger, “Narcissa Black, you are so beautiful.”  
  
Just as Narcissa leaned forward to meet the other woman in another kiss she heard a ringing from the other room. “Saved by the bell,” she teased.  
  
Following Narcissa into the mud room, Hermione realized it was Painoia ringing her bell to alert Narcissa to her return. Hermione remarked on the intelligence.  
  
“Thank you,” Narcissa smiled brightly, “I thought it would be easier and safer for Paionia and Ulysses to have a specific place to go here that would give them cover and a landing pad. It’s come to be quite convenient all around.”  
  
“It’s perfect. Why don’t more wizarding families do this? The Weasley’s owls tap at the kitchen window and fly right over the table like at Hogwarts. But, believe me, the kitchen’s quite a bit smaller than the Great Hall.”  
  
“Yes, the landing platform for them outside makes it safer for the owls in case someone has closed the window and prevents birds from flying all over one’s house.”  
  
After giving the owl her treats, Narcissa handed the letter to Hermione to read.  
  
“Perfect, Harry said he’ll make sure to have the right crowd there at the right time.”  
  
“Of course, he will. He’s quite a lovely young man and a good friend.”  
  
“He’s like a brother to me, really. Neither of us have any siblings and we both came into Hogwarts with no experience. I don’t know what I would’ve done without a friend like Harry.”  
  
“Honestly, Hermione, I’m sure he says the same about you,” Narcissa reassured.  
  
Hermione turned back toward Painoia for a moment before explaining what she had planned for the day. Narcissa’s response was to pull out the chair at the little writing desk in the corner and gesture for Hermione to sit.  
  
“I’m going to go up to my rooms to look at some robes for this evening. You go ahead and write to Headmistress McGonagall and take your time. Remember, Scotland isn’t a quick flight so her answer may take a little time. Feel free to tell her you’re here, if she wants to Apparate over she’s welcome to.”  
  
Hermione grasped Narcissa’s hand before she could go, “Thank you. Your support means everything.”  
  
Narcissa leaned down to kiss the seated woman and said, “come upstairs when you’re done. Go back out to the foyer, take the main staircase up, turn right and go to the end of the hallway; you’ll find me.”  
  
Hermione nodded and watched the woman walk away.  
  
After nearly thirty minutes of trial and error, Hermione had a letter she was ready to send.  
  
“Thank you, Paionia. This is going all the way to Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts. You needn’t wait for an answer but do feel free to stay there and rest for a little while if you’d like.” The bird hooted in response and took flight.

“Hmm, up the main stairs and turn right,” Hermione said to herself looking for Narcissa. When she got to the end of the hallway, she looked left and saw only a closed door. When she looked right she found an open doorway with light shining out. Heading that way, she tapped on the door frame and startled Narcissa.  
  
“Oh! You’re done?”  
  
Hermione simply nodded.  
  
“Come in, dear, these are my rooms here. I suppose, if we live here after we’re married, they’ll be our rooms.”  
  
Hermione stood in the center of the large bedchamber and turned in a slow circle, “that would be lovely. It’s so calming in here.” When she looked at Narcissa again, she could tell the woman was hiding something. Narcissa wouldn’t quite make eye contact before looking away at something else.  
  
Before she could ask, however, Narcissa blurted out, “I have a secret.”  
  
Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded at Narcissa to continue.  
  
“Remember when we went shopping at Maison Capenoir?”  
  
“Narcissa. It was yesterday. And it was kind of a big deal. Of course, I remember.”  
  
“Well, I maybe bought more robes than just the two we wore for the photos,” she divulged.  
  
Shoulders and head dropping dramatically, Hermione said, “Narcissa! Don’t scare me like that! You’re terrible at keeping secrets; I thought something was really wrong!”  
  
“I’m excellent at keeping secrets! I saved Harry’s life with a secret! I just can’t keep them from you,” Narcissa laughed and stepped forward to wrap her arms around Hermione’s waist.  
  
“Yes, you did, and I am ever so grateful.” Hermione chastely kissed the other woman’s lips. “So, tell me, what am I wearing tonight for my future-step-son’s wedding?”  
  
Ignoring the comment about her future-step-son, Narcissa answered Hermione’s question, “I thought, at first, that we could just wear what we wore for the photographs yesterday but, then, I thought that we don’t necessarily want people to associate our Engagement Announcement with our current clothing. We want them to think we’ve been together longer. So, we should wear something else.”  
  
“Boo,” Hermione whispered, “I was hoping to dance with you in those backless robes tonight.”  
  
“Shameless flirt,” Narcissa teased, “I have a few pairs of robes pulled out for us to choose from. You don’t have to try any of them on until we’ve decided but I wanted us to choose robes that would…”  
  
“Go together?” Hermione finished.  
  
“Yes. Not match per se, but go together.”  
  
“Like us.”  
  
“Exactly. Like us.”  
  
Narcissa kissed Hermione again - now that she had permission, she was going to do it whenever she wanted - and moved to the first pair of dress robes. As she was about to pick them up, Hermione walked over to join her. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Narcissa, but I don’t want to wear black tonight.”  
  
“May I ask why?”  
  
“Well, it’s just that Draco and Dean just told us this is going to have that feeling of a backyard wedding. And even though we’re going to be the best dressed couple there, I still think we should be dressed more...happily than a pair of black robes would be.”  
  
Narcissa swallowed and her hands entwined behind her back.  
  
“Narcissa?”  
  
The older woman stepped away to the next pair of dress robes.  
  
“Narcissa, please answer me.”  
  
“It’s nothing, Hermione.”  
  
She stepped behind Narcissa and gently released her hands from their white-knuckled hold on each other. Slowly she moved so her front was pressed to Narcissa’s back and her arms rested around the other woman’s hips. Forehead pressed to Narcissa’s spine, Hermione spoke, “I’m sorry if I insulted you. I was trying to be honest. Please don’t shut me out.”  
  
“I’m sorry I’m being a little sensitive about this. I think part of me wants to wear black because I AM upset about Draco getting married tonight and I don’t want to dress happily.”  
  
Hermione placed a kiss on Narcissa’s back, even though it was against her robes, Narcissa still felt the press. “Thank you for being honest with me. If, at five o’clock tonight, you still want to wear black, I will. But for now, let’s not decide. We have no pressing issues to take care of. Draco and Dean aren’t home. You didn’t sleep at all last night, I can tell, and I’m exhausted. Let’s take a nap and, when we wake up, we’ll be able to choose what we want to wear and get ready. Okay?”  
  
Narcissa silently pulled out her wand, moved the robes off the bed, and took Hermione by the hand.  
  
As they walked toward the oversized, four-poster bed, Narcissa confessed that she didn’t have any clothing like Hermione had given her the other day.  
  
“At this point, a t-shirt would do. I don’t think I’ve been sleeping well with all the excitement this week.”  
  
Narcissa quickly summoned two oversized sleeping shirts from her closet and the women simply turned away from one another and changed. They climbed on top of the fluffy, gray down comforter and Narcissa pulled up the warm blanket from the foot of the bed as they laid down facing one another.  
  
“Come here,” Hermione demanded, rolling onto her back and stretching out her left arm give Narcissa somewhere to curl up.  
  
Within moments of Narcissa’s head resting on Hermione’s chest and Hermione’s arm holding her securely in place, both women were sound asleep.


	8. The Circle Grows

Hermione’s eyes fluttered open and she barely suppressed a startled gasp seeing two big, twinkling elf eyes staring back at her.  
  
“Hermione Granger,” Pepper whispered, “Pepper is sorry but there’s a guest downstairs. Hogwarts Headmistress Professor Minerva McGonagall is in the sitting room.”  
  
“Okay,” Hermione whispered back, “let’s let Narcissa sleep a little longer, though, all right?”  
  
Pepper nodded solemnly and tugged an unused pillow from the top of the bed to slide into Narcissa’s arms as Hermione carefully extracted herself.  
  
Once up, Hermione quickly redressed and headed downstairs to meet with her favorite professor.  
  
She entered the formal sitting room to find the Headmistress pacing in front of the fireplace.  
  
“Oh, Miss Granger,” Minerva cried, “I was so relieved to get your owl. Are you okay? What are you doing here?”  
  
“I take it you haven’t seen the papers today?”  
  
“No, I’ve perhaps been avoiding them a bit.”  
  
Hermione sat on the loveseat and gestured to the chair nearby inviting Minerva to join her. Once both women were seated, Hermione began, “I think, before we get into all of the reasons for that, I’d like to discuss the reason I wrote you and my options for working with the Hogwarts Professors this year.”  
  
Nodding along, the professor agreed it was a good place to start, “I’ve never heard of a Hogwarts student not actually attending Hogwarts, Miss Granger, I’m not sure how this would work.”  
  
“Narcissa and I were discussing this and she pointed out that I’ve always been academically ahead of my peers. Even with the last year spent outside the classroom, I’d be so separated from any other seventh years, being in class together would be challenging for all of us.”  
  
“I can understand that but don’t you want to do seventh year work?”  
  
“Not precisely. I want to take my NEWTs. I’m ready to do any work and research that would prepare me to do so but I’d like to do it at home...or here, as the case soon may be.”  
  
“Here?”  
  
“I’m sure you were caught slightly off-guard by being invited to Black Manor to meet with me but you certainly are aware that there’s a lot going on behind closed doors right now, yes?”  
  
“Of course, Miss Granger, this latest Decree has all of us on edge. No one knows who’s going to be assigned next and if their spouse will be chosen as a punishment, a reward, or simply a partner!”  
  
“Exactly. You are, yourself, presiding over a wedding tonight that’s intended to save Draco from his punishment.”  
  
Minerva threw her hands into the air sputtering, “I’m appalled at the selection that was made for him. He’s only barely of age and they placed him with a sixty-something widow. And, of course, Dean could easily have married Mandy Brocklehurst, she’s a sweet girl, but he shouldn’t be forced to do so.”  
  
“No one should be forced to marry anyone. The Ministry assigned me to marry Ron and, because of the false and misleading articles The Prophet’s been printing all summer, it looks as though the Ministry is rewarding us when, in fact, I am not dating nor have I ever dated Ronald Weasley.”  
  
Shaking her head, Minerva asked Hermione what she intended to do.  
  
“See for yourself,” Hermione smiled and reached for the morning edition of The Daily Prophet which was sitting nearby.  
  
Minerva looked down at the paper and Hermione watched as her eyes widened comically.  
  
“Is this true?”  
  
“Every word,” Hermione said, looking McGonagall right in the eye knowing she wasn’t exactly being honest. “We’re going to be married on the Winter Solstice. We haven’t chosen a location or asked anyone to preside over the ceremony itself yet but we’re going to make those decisions tomorrow.”  
  
“You’re choosing this? To marry Lucius Malfoy’s ex-wife?”  
  
As she opened her mouth to answer, Hermione saw Pepper make her way into the room with a tea tray and instead spoke to the little elf to thank her for her thoughtfulness. Pepper, her back to Minerva, glanced at the staircase before making her way back out of the sitting room.  
  
“First of all, if you knew what Narcissa has been through in her life and what she did to save my own, you wouldn’t describe her that way. She is her own, individual person. She should never be labeled as just someone’s spouse, current or otherwise. Second, I’m choosing, as you can read right there in our Engagement Announcement, of my own free will to marry Narcissa Black with good faith in her and with a deep certainty in my soul that our match is the right one.”  
  
“For both of us,” Narcissa said from the doorway, smiling at her fiancée.  
  
Reflexively, Hermione smiled back as she stood and held a hand out toward Narcissa, silently inviting the other woman to join her. As they sat together, hands entwined, Hermione said quietly, “I hope we didn’t wake you, you seemed very tired earlier. Did you sleep at all last night?”  
  
“Not much but don’t worry, dear, I’ll take another catnap before we dress this evening,” Narcissa said quietly to Hermione, smoothing the concerned brow in front of her before turning to Minerva and continuing, “she does worry so about me. It’s quite touching, really.”  
  
Minerva regarded the pair in front of her, “I’d have never believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes but you two are quite the pair.”  
  
“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione blushed as she spoke.  
  
“Tea, ladies?” Narcissa offered. “Please continue your conversation. Unless you’d rather do so in private? I can leave you to it.”  
  
“Oh, no, Narcissa, please don’t. We were talking about NEWTs and then the topic shifted to the Decree and marriage assignments but we never really finished our original discussion. Stay, please, won’t you?” Hermione’s hand was gently grasping Narcissa’s forearm.  
  
“Of course,” Narcissa murmured, glancing down briefly at Hermione’s lips, “anytime?”  
  
Smirking, Hermione answered, “Any time at all,” and leaned forward to steal a quick kiss, only mildly uncomfortable doing so in front of her revered former teacher.  
  
Narcissa had the good grace to blush furiously even as she grinned and poured three cups of tea.  
  
Minerva let out a quick chuckle and smiled brightly at Narcissa, “You just reminded me quite strongly of a lovely third year I had some time ago who got a one hundred percent on her Transfiguration final exam. She smiled just like that.” When Narcissa looked up at Minerva, the Headmistress winked.  
  
Hermione glanced back and forth between the two women realizing McGonagall had just accepted their relationship, it brought tears to her eyes.  
  
“One sugar and a healthy pouring of milk, right?” Narcissa asked.  
  
“Mmhmm, perfect,” Hermione accepted the teacup from her betrothed and waited while Narcissa and Minerva fixed their own cups before bringing the topic back to her education. “Professor McGonagall, it boils down to a few things. I’ve seen and done a lot in the past year and I can’t imagine feeling comfortable living in the Castle again right now. I’m going to be married in a few months and my future spouse and I wish to live together like any couple would. Also, I don’t technically need to be a Hogwarts student to take NEWTs; it would be nice and make things easier for me but it isn’t strictly necessary. I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to correspond with professors and meet at their convenience a few times a month but, if that isn’t possible, we’ll come up with a different solution.”  
  
Minerva didn’t answer right away; she squinted her eyes and removed her spectacles, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She appeared to be thinking through a variety of responses as her eyes darted around. Finally, after five long minutes of silence, she offered, “Hermione, I’m concerned.” Before either of the other two women could start to argue, Minerva put a hand up to stop them. “I’m concerned about how we can make sure you get all the studying and guidance you need to excel on each of your examinations. I want you to graduate from Hogwarts, not just take your NEWTs and be done. You deserved so much to graduate at the top of your class. You worked so hard, Hermione. So hard. I want very badly for that to be recognized. I will acquiesce to your request. I will explain to every professor on your behalf what the expectations are for you and for them. I will grant you access to the prefect study areas and the entirety of the Hogwarts Library. You will come to Hogwarts one full day per week at least through October. You’re going to be listed as a Hogwarts student, still assigned to Gryffindor House for the year.”  
  
Narcissa raised her eyebrows and looked at Hermione. The younger woman remained silent.  
  
“Professor,” Narcissa interjected, “I believe it is possible to contact the Ministry’s Department of Educational Standards and request an appointment to take OWLs or NEWTs, isn’t it?”  
  
“It used to be,” Minerva replied, “I don’t know, at this point, if that office is even staffed. There’s been a lot of loss.”  
  
“Understandable, however, if that office is staffed and Hermione so chooses, would you be opposed to her taking some NEWTs earlier than others. If she felt able to take, say, Defense Against the Dark Arts next month, would you support that decision?”  
  
“Hmm,” the professor frowned, thinking. “I suppose I would but I do request that you take a practice examination at Hogwarts before you schedule any NEWTs at the Ministry. It’s all well and good to feel prepared but let’s do everything we can to make sure you really are prepared.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Hermione agreed again before thanking Narcissa for remembering to ask. “I’m not sure I understand the necessity of coming to the castle once a week, though.”  
  
“Miss Granger,” McGonagall began, “your education thus far has followed a predictable and well-traveled route. You attend classes, receive instruction, practice, study, test, move on. I don’t doubt that you are a committed student who is capable of learning independently; I do, however, doubt your ability to stick to the topics at hand. I quite recall your penchant for turning in twenty-four foot scrolls when assigned twenty-four inches. I want you to meet with the professors once a week for the time being so we can all make sure you’re staying focused on what’s needed for NEWTs and not the entirety of the magical universe.”  
  
A moment of silence followed, Hermione’s ears burning red.  
  
“Funny, isn’t it?” Narcissa said quietly, pretending to speak only to Hermione but just loudly enough for Minerva to listen, “I had quite forgotten how stinging those backhanded compliments could be from McGonagall.”  
  
Hermione giggled, appreciating Narcissa’s distraction from her embarrassment.  
  
“It will likely have to be on Saturdays, though, if I’m to meet with everyone, as we have very limited time to plan our wedding and continue to work with everyone else on the...things.” Hermione had almost slipped and said rebellion.  
  
“Things?”  
  
“Yes. Things. Everything ready for tonight?” Hermione was terrible at keeping secrets, and it was the most painfully obvious subject change in history.  
  
Narcissa uncharacteristically flopped back onto the loveseat and groaned.  
  
Laughing, Hermione explained that they were a little surprised by Draco’s decision and were left mostly out of the planning. “As far as we know,” she said, “Draco and Dean have everything well in hand and we need only show up at the right time and not discuss it with anyone who doesn’t already know.”  
  
“Yes, that’s my understanding as well. Also, I’m not to deviate in any way from the script they’ve given me. I don’t actually know what their precise goal is but I have a feeling they’ve done some research in the past few days...a lot of it...into Things.”  
  
Narcissa agreed completely with Minerva.  
  
“What will you do, Professor, when they assign you?” Hermione asked quietly.  
  
“Ah, so those are the things of which you speak. Well, they wouldn’t dare,” she answered haughtily.  
  
One eyebrow raised, Narcissa simply stared at her former teacher.  
  
“You don’t think they would? I’m an old woman!”  
  
“Not really,” Hermione hedged. “I mean you’re only in your sixties. Well within a witch’s childbearing years and certainly able to impregnate a younger woman.”  
  
Narcissa smoothly turned her head to stare at her future wife. When Hermione looked back at her, Narcissa’s eyebrows raised.  
  
“What?” Hermione asked. Narcissa merely continued staring.  
  
“You seem to have thought about that before.”  
  
“I may have had a small crush in my school days,” Hermione admitted, cheeks burning a bright red.  
  
“Didn’t we all,” Narcissa confessed.  
  
“Ladies! I’m sitting right here!” Minerva was aghast, and red-cheeked herself.  
  
“Apologies, Professor, but my points stand. You’re hardly an old woman and you could still have children. You’ll have to find another excuse for the Ministry when they pair you up with Sybill Trelawny,” Hermione said with a smirk.  
  
Minerva’s cheeks quickly went from red to white. “I, I could never, Sybill, goodness, no, can you imagine?”  
  
Narcissa, joining her fiancée in teasing their former teacher, offered, “I don’t know, they say opposites attract. I mean look at us, Gryffindor and Slytherin, and we couldn’t be better together.”  
  
Hermione forgot about the teasing for a moment and simply beamed at Narcissa reaching for the other woman’s hand, raising it to her lips, and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.  
  
Narcissa brushed the back of her hand softly down Hermione’s cheek, reveling in the kindness she was shown by the younger woman.  
  
“In all honesty,” Narcissa spoke a moment later, “I don’t think they’ll assign you to Trelawney.”  
  
“They better not!”  
  
“What makes you say that, Narcissa?” Hermione asked.  
  
Narcissa looked away for a moment, and then glanced back and forth between Hermione and their guest before answering. “I’ve been tracking all the couples who’ve been partnered. Doing a bit of research myself.”  
  
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping? You’re spending all your time with me all day and staying up all night to look into this?”  
  
“Sort of. I started it because I couldn’t sleep that first night the Decree came out and I wrote down all the pairs that were announced. Then I did the same thing the next day and when I did it again on Thursday I thought I was noticing patterns in the choices. So, of course, I couldn’t sleep because I was trying to figure it out.”  
  
“Are there patterns?” Minerva asked, trusting Narcissa’s intellect.  
  
“I think so but I can’t say for certain. I do believe that some pairs are selected based strictly on blood status. Anca Shafiq and Ezekial Prewett, obviously, and Daphne Greengrass and Torben Rowle. Four families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”  
  
“But so is the Black family and the Malfoy family, yet Draco was paired with Albert Runcorn’s widow? That doesn’t fit,” Hermione countered.  
  
“It does fit the theory of punishments, though. I was assigned to re-wed Lucius. It wasn’t in the paper, they weren’t going to announce that because if anyone cared to look up the cause for the dissolution of our union they would be appalled at the Ministry putting me back in that situation. Hopefully. They would hopefully be appalled. Anyway, after you and I went in on Wednesday and demanded, or rather, asked politely to wed one another. Our request was approved. Yet, nothing was printed about it in The Prophet until we posted our own Announcement today. They did, however, announce that Draco was assigned to wed the Widow Runcorn yesterday. The same day The Quibbler released the news of our engagement.”  
  
“So, the Ministry is punishing Draco for us defying their assignment?”  
  
“I believe so. I bet Macmillan got in trouble for changing the register. Otherwise, why not assign Draco, who carries both Black and Malfoy blood, to one of the Greengrass sisters, Hannah Abbott, Pansy Parkinson, Milicent Bulstrode, or there’s probably a Travers descendant around your age, goodness knows they breed like rodents and they’ve only had girls in the past century.”  
  
“Narcissa,” Hermione admonished.  
  
“Sorry,” she shrugged, clearly not sorry at all. “I’m simply outlining my case. Someone working in that office is using these pairing as a punishment-reward system while also attempting some secondary eugenics.”  
  
“Eugenics. As in designing this system to give our society the greatest chance of magical babies?” Hermione was trying to understand Narcissa’s thought process.  
  
“Eugenics as in experimenting with procreation to assess the levels of magic found in children produced by pure-blood, half-blood, and muggle-born witches and wizards.”  
  
“That’s a hefty accusation to throw around, Miss Black,” Professor McGonagall said quietly.  
  
“If you saw the pairs they’ve made and the family trees behind them, I think you’d agree with me. Eugenics holds true for most. The exceptions being Hermione and Ron and now Hermione and myself, Draco and Margaret Runcorn, and Gregory Goyle and Rebecca Thicknesse. Those last two might still follow the eugenics angle, though, I’m not sure yet. I haven’t been able to find enough family information about Margaret or Rebecca to determine their actual blood-status.”  
  
“Ugh,” Hermione grunted, “Just get them to go to the Ministry with you. When they weigh their wands you’ll get every detail of their lives, remember?”  
  
“Oh, that was so disturbing,” Narcissa looked darkly into her teacup.  
  
Minerva tilted her head, staring at Hermione. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Have you gone to the MInistry lately?”  
  
Minerva shook her head in the negative. Hermione recounted the scene at the security desk where the witch who was working that day weighed their wands and knew when and where they were purchased, every detail about the wand’s properties, and the blood-status of the wand owner.  
  
“That has to have been implemented when Voldemort was running the show. He was absolutely obsessed with the Elder wand and that translated into a general obsession with wands for a lot of his regime,” Minerva speculated.  
  
“That makes perfect sense,” Narcissa agreed, “Voldemort was completely obsessed with wands while he was at Malfoy Manor. He took Lucius’ wand to go after Harry one night but I think it backfired on him. I’m not sure, I heard the yelling through my door but it sounded like he was blaming Lucius for the wand's improper behavior. That’s a…” she trailed off.  
  
Hermione wrapped her arm loosely around Narcissa’s waist, offering what support she could.  
  
“That’s all I remember from that night. It goes dark after that. The next thing I remember is no longer having a wand myself. And sitting at the dining table. And a lot of death. And fear. And blood.”  
  
“The night Voldemort took Lucius’ wand, as far as we can tell from the different tellings of the story,” Hermione said quietly to Narcissa, rubbing her back, “has come to be known as The Battle of The Seven Potters. Six of us took Polyjuice Potion to look like Harry and we all, along with Harry himself, flew away from his house at the same time each with a different member of the Order of The Phoenix, I was with Kingsley, Harry with Hagrid, Ron with Tonks, um, George with Lupin, Fred with Mr. Weasley, Fleur and Bill were together, and Mundungus Fletcher and Alastor Moody. The Death Eaters were ready for us, though, and as soon as we breached the shielding barrier they were there cursing and hexing us out of the sky. Alastor Moody was killed that night and Harry’s owl, Hedwig, died saving his life.”  
  
“How did Lucius’ wand fail?”  
  
“The Death Eaters discovered which was the real Harry because he couldn’t hurt Stan Shunpike.”  
  
Minerva nearly spit out her tea. “I’m sorry, what did you say? Harry almost died and the entire war was almost lost because he couldn’t hurt Stan Shunpike?”  
  
Hermione took a deep breath to explain. “The way Voldemort found Harry that night was the same way that Harry saved his own life at The Battle of Hogwarts. He just doesn’t want to hurt people. He always chooses to disarm rather than injure. Harry and Hagrid were flying in Sirius’ motorbike and Stan Shunpike was one of the Death Eaters on their trail. Harry, with an opportunity to hit Stan with any spell in his arsenal, chose Expelliarmus because he believed Stan was under the Imperius Curse and refused to be responsible for Stan falling off a broom in midair. Another Death Eater who was nearby realized that only Harry would use that spell - and be that devastated at the death of his owl - and summoned Voldemort to them. When Voldemort appeared, Harry says his wand spun in his hand and shot golden fire at Voldemort destroying Lucius’ wand just before they passed through a magical barrier preventing Voldemort from following.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin’s pants,” Minerva said, “that boy and his heart of gold.”  
  
Hermione shrugged, “Harry’s heart of gold saved him at the final battle.”  
  
“Who has he been assigned?” Minerva asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from such dark times.  
  
“Padma Patil, both of her parents are magical but one of them is a muggle-born, exactly like Harry,” Narcissa answered.  
  
“And Mandy Brocklehurst?”  
  
“Half-blood. Just like Dean.”  
  
“You really have done your research, Miss Black,” Minerva was impressed.  
  
“It’s disturbing,” Narcissa explained. “They’re experimenting with eugenics and taking away our free will under the guise of replenishing the magical population and too many magical families are just blindly following along.”  
  
“I really am the outlier. First I was assigned to Ron, a pureblood, and then re-assigned to you, also a pureblood.”  
  
“Don’t take this the wrong way Hermione but, neither Mr. Weasley nor myself are just purebloods. We are both the result of a merging of two members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I, myself, am a little confused as to why we’ve been allowed to wed. Except, they’re a little afraid to push back too hard against your popularity right now.”  
  
“You know, I’ve heard you mention this Sacred Twenty-Eight a few times now but I still don’t really know what it means.”  
  
“Oh, it’s said that the Sacred Twenty-Eight are the only British wizarding families left who are truly pure-blood. I think it came about in the 1930’s,” Narcissa rolled her eyes.  
  
Pepper reappeared just then to check on their tea and ask if anyone was interested in lunch.  
  
“Bless you but I should be getting back to the castle about now. Merlin knows the first weekend of the term is always filled with mischief. Thank you for the tea. I shall see you this evening, ladies.” Minerva stood and was accompanied to the door by both women.  
  
As Narcissa reached for the handle, it turned and Draco pushed it open.  
  
“Oh! Headmistress! Perfect timing! Everything set for tonight?” He and Dean walked in, each holding a garment bag from Madam Malkin’s draped over one arm.  
  
“All set, Draco, Dean,” she nodded.  
  
“Brilliant,” Dean smiled, nodding, “And just fair warning, you’re about to get a large influx of owls from students who either didn’t attend their seventh year last year or feel that it wasn’t up to regular Hogwarts standards. They’re all going to request to attend this year and repeat seventh year.”  
  
Minerva paled, “I don’t know that we have that kind of room right now. How many students?”  
  
“About sixty far as we can tell. Maybe more once word gets out. Want to join, Hermione?” Dean grinned.  
  
“No, thanks,” she smiled back, “I’ve got my own plan going but thanks for the invite. Sounds like a good time.”  
  
“Anything else you’d like to warn me about while I’m here?” Minerva asked sternly.  
  
Draco and Dean glanced at one another. Draco spoke up, “I actually think we should warn you that you’re also about to get an influx of requests for Apprenticeships. Though everyone understands you can’t say yes to them all, they’re hoping you’ll include as many as possible in as many different positions as possible this year, including a whole host of people who would like Apprenticeships with, um, Mr. Filch as caretaker and Hagrid as Groundskeeper. Between us, Professor,” Draco said quietly, “they know there are few opportunities to avoid a forced marriage and immediate pregnancy and school is one of them.”  
  
“I see. The Rebellion outlives the war, then. Seems I shall spend tomorrow answering a lot of post. Will you two be back?”  
  
“No, I’m attending Wizarding Law School right now actually,” Draco said.  
  
“And I have a job as a statistician with the Holyhead Harpies,” Dean grinned.  
  
Nodding in understanding, Minerva stepped outside and bid farewell, reminding everyone not to be late to Hogsmeade later.

“Let’s have some lunch and then Hermione and I have plans before this evening,” Narcissa commanded.  
  
The whole group agreed and made their way to the kitchen to find that Pepper and Filly had prepared a light spread for them already. They kept their conversation as light as the finger-foods and were laughing with one another quickly, sharing stories of their time at Hogwarts.  
  
As lunch wrapped up, Narcissa covered yet another yawn and looked at Hermione questioningly. “Well, gentlemen, I assume you have some things to go over before tonight’s festivities. Narcissa and I are going to go finalize our outfits and take care of some things. We’ll see you later in Hogsmeade, okay? Oh, Draco, I sent an owl to Luna inviting her for dinner tonight. I don’t know if she’ll show up. I told her I’d be there and to meet me if she wanted to.”  
  
“Thanks, Hermione,” Draco smiled, “See you both later.” He and Dean stayed seated at the kitchen table as the women went up the back stairs to the second floor.

Winding through a back hallway and then a hidden doorway Hermione bemoaned the fact that she would never be able to find her way from the kitchen right to Narcissa’s rooms by herself.  
  
“Of course, you will, dear, it just takes practice,” Narcissa reached back for Hermione’s hand as they walked. “See, here we are.”  
  
“How? How did that even make sense? We weren’t even in the correct wing of the Manor!”  
  
Laughing and opening the door, Narcissa answered simply, “magic. If Hogwarts can have moving staircases, Black Manor can have moving doorways.”  
  
“We came back up here for a nap, right? Because I am so tired today,” Hermione admitted, flopping face down on the bed.  
  
“Yes. I have a feeling tonight's going to turn into a big party and we are going to want to be well rested. Do you think you can transfigure some trousers into those clothes of yours from the other day? I was so comfortable.”  
  
“Sure, just give me the trousers,” Hermione stood up and pulled out her wand.  
  
Once the transfiguration was complete the women changed into the sweatpants and sleepshirts from earlier and happily climbed right back onto the bed.  
  
As quickly as sleep claimed them earlier, however, it was eluding them now.  
  
“Hermione?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Do you think this is moving too fast?”  
  
“That’s a loaded question to drop at naptime, Narcissa,” Hermione paused, sorting her thoughts. “Yes and no. It’s moving faster than either of us would have ever expected or previously been comfortable with but I don’t think you’re pushing or forcing anything and I hope you don’t feel that I am. I feel safe with you. We’re getting married in a few months. We’re using this time to make sure we’re compatible. If other people knew our actual timeline they’d think it was too fast but here? From the inside? I feel pretty good right now. You?”  
  
“It’s going to sound crazy.”  
  
“Good, hit me with the crazy,” Hermione teased, hugging the woman in her arms.  
  
“We work well together and I wish we had had time to romance each other because I think this actually could have happened organically and I think...damn the Ministry for taking that away from us.”  
  
"We have more than three months to the date of our wedding, darling. Let's not let the Ministry's machinations take away the romance we could have built with one another."  
  
Narcissa yawned deeply and said sleepily, "I want to buy you flowers."  
  
“Daffodils are my favorite.”  
  
And sleep fell upon them once more.


	9. Noticing You

“Have you decided which robes we’ll wear, Narcissa?” Hermione asked, coming back into the bedroom, hair wrapped in a towel.  
  
“Of course, not. I’m not going to choose for us both, you have to help.”  
  
Hermione felt completely out of her depth. Not only was fashion not something in which she had ever been interested but Narcissa was known to be a woman who was always impeccably dressed. She was terrified of making the wrong choice...but she didn’t know how to say that.  
  
“Okay. Um, what are our options?”  
  
Narcissa made a sweeping gesture around the room to the fifteen pairs of robes scattered about. Hermione, in only a dressing gown, turned in a slow circle to make an initial assessment. She felt as though she was on a battlefield.  
  
Okay, if I feel like I’m in battle, I’ll face it that way. Assess the situation. Determine the best outcome. Find the right strategy.  
  
“Hmm, looks like we have fifteen gowns or so from which to choose. We’ll want to be comfortable yet fashionable. Make a statement but not overstated. Appropriate for both the situation, your son’s wedding, and the season, late summer but a definite chill in the air this evening.” Hermione carefully used her wand to lift and examine every pair, finally narrowing it down to three. “In my opinion, we should go with one of these three looks. I’ve left the black robes in for you because I know you were feeling earlier like you wanted to wear formal black this evening. I think this pair of dark platinum and burnished bronze robes with similar black beading are gorgeous. This last pair has a very different look than the other two and would probably blend more with the other guests; the knee-length and bright colors don’t seem as elegant to me but would be acceptable for a last minute, backyard wedding.”  
  
“Hmm, but not when one is the mother of the groom, or of a groom at least,” Narcissa chuckled.  
  
Hermione could hear the tension she was trying to hide, though, and stepped closer to the other woman. “I’m sorry this isn’t the way you imagined your son’s wedding would be.”  
  
“Silly, isn’t it? A wedding is just an event. Draco and Dean, for whatever the length this marriage will last, will be fine. I just truly wish this day was about Draco and his spouse-to-be feeling excited and nervous and happy to be marrying the love of their life. Instead, it’s about keeping it quiet until it’s done and following a script and making the right statement.” Narcissa turned away from Hermione to look out the nearby window. “Are we doing the right thing? Is encouraging people to defy the Ministry and get married in a mad rush to avoid a stranger really better than just asking the Ministry for a different partner or a little more time? What if we’re making this worse, Hermione? What if we’re doing this wrong?”  
  
Hermione tried to swallow but found she couldn’t get past the lump in her throat. Not trusting her voice, Hermione quickly brushed away the tears she found on her cheeks and turned away from Narcissa. “Either way,” she said in an unusually nasal voice, “we have a wedding for which we must prepare. Would you still prefer the black gowns?”  
  
Turning quickly to find Hermione across the room Narcissa was shocked. She had honestly expected to feel the young woman slide her arms around her waist, not walk away.  
  
“Hermione?” she said quietly.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Narcissa hadn’t heard that tone from her fiancée before. She tried again, unable to keep the tears from her own voice, “Hermione?”  
  
Ignoring the emotion from the other woman, Hermione answered abruptly, “I said, yes.”  
  
Narcissa stepped behind the smaller woman, sliding one arm around her waist and the other around her upper arms, she kissed Hermione’s cheek before whispering in her ear, “I didn’t mean us, Hermione. I didn’t mean our wedding. I didn’t mean our plans. I meant encouraging other people to follow in our footsteps. They certainly won’t all be so lucky as to find a Hermione of their own.” She felt the other woman fight a sob and turned her around in her arms. “What just happened?”  
  
Hermione just shook her head and wrapped herself up in Narcissa’s warmth for a long moment. Once she had herself under control again, Hermione placed a long kiss on Narcissa’s exposed collar bone. “Hmm, didn’t you just tell me earlier today that nothing more physical than kissing was going to happen for the time being?”  
  
Gasping, Narcissa nodded.  
  
“Then perhaps we shouldn’t hold one another wearing nothing but thin dressing gowns,” Hermione whispered, kissing up the other woman’s neck to her ear.  
  
Narcissa bit her lip and took Hermione’s face between her hands, “I think perhaps you’re right.” She kissed the younger woman, tapering off slowly to cool the ardor that had built so quickly. “Now, Hermione, are you going to tell me what just happened?”  
  
“Fine,” Hermione agreed, “I will. But first, choose a pair of gowns for us and I’ll tell you as we get ready. We actually need to start moving or we’ll be late and McGonagall will give us both detention.” The women laughed.  
  
Narcissa discarded the third pair Hermione had chosen, it really was too common for her to wear to Draco’s wedding - fake or not. “I would genuinely prefer the black robes but I suppose you’re correct and we should wear the platinum and bronze.”  
  
“You’re going to look stunning in that dark silver, Narcissa,” Hermione said, holding the gown out for the other woman to take.  
  
Narcissa tilted her head to the side and smiled at Hermione. “Darling, I think you’ve got it backwards. The platinum is for you. The bronze is for me.”  
  
“Oh. I just assumed. I mean Slytherin is green and silver.”  
  
“Yes, and Gryffindor is red and gold...which could be similar to a burnished bronze,” Narcissa squeezed Hermione’s hand.  
  
“So, you’re wearing Gryffindor and I’m?”  
  
“Wearing Slytherin silver, yes,” Narcissa hesitated, “I can swap the colors easily enough, Hermione if you’d rather not wear the platinum.”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Hermione smiled broadly. “I adore this! I just didn’t even think of it. Narcissa, I’m happy to wear your Slytherin silver, even if it is platinum,” she looked happily at the gown in her hands. “I also really like that this one has tight, three-quarter sleeves.”  
  
Narcissa pressed a kiss to Hermione’s forehead, “I promise, we’ll work on that scar. It’ll hardly be noticeable come December 21st.” Hermione smiled up at the woman who had quickly taken hold in her heart. “Now, you get that towel off your head and take care of your hair. I’m going to put up the screen and get my robes on.”  
  
As the women went about getting dressed and pinning up their hair, Hermione explained why she had gotten so upset earlier.  
  
Standing side by side in front of the large mirror in Narcissa’s wash room putting on their makeup, Hermione finally said, “I’ve just spent so much of my life worrying about being wrong. Whether it’s homework, classwork, tests, or with my peers, it’s always been at the forefront of my thoughts. I haven’t really done that with you this week. It’s like that part of my brain just...stopped panicking all the time. And then, all of a sudden, you asked what if we were doing this wrong and it all flooded in, all at once. What if you think I’m doing this wrong? What if I don’t know how to be a good enough partner to you? What makes me think I have any right to marry you? You’re a beautiful, intelligent, well-traveled, well-connected woman and who am I? No one. What if I’m all wrong to do this to you?” Hermione’s eyes started to fill with tears again. She looked up and blinked rapidly trying to avoid ruining the eyeliner she had just put on.  
  
“Hermione,” Narcissa exhaled. “I think...I’m going to tell you right now, no. You’re not wrong to do this to me, whatever that means. I was worried about what this would do to you, remember? You’re a beautiful, intelligent, national hero with her whole life ahead of her and a bright and long horizon of opportunity and I’m just going to be an anchor weighing you down.”  
  
“God. That’s not at all how I see it. If you want to compare yourself to an anchor, then let it be one in a storm keeping me safe and steady like you have this week.”  
  
Narcissa put down the earrings she was holding and gathered Hermione into her arms once more. “Hermione, after these days together I can tell you three things with absolute certainty,” she whispered. “First, I’m going to continue to spend as much time as possible with my arms around you. Second, we’re going to have this conversation many more times in the next three months while we both remind ourselves that we want this. Third, I know, right this moment, that we will be okay; I might need you to remind me of that in the future, I might forget it, I might fight against it once or twice in my more foolish moments, but it’s true - you and I are going to be okay, we’re going to heal each other of these hurts large and small.”  
  
“Kiss me, Narcissa, before you put that lipstick on and I have to keep my lips to myself for the next several hours.”

When Hermione and Narcissa Apparated into Hogsmeade just outside the Three Broomsticks, they were only a few minutes later than they’d wanted to be...and Narcissa had only reapplied her lipstick twice.  
  
“Tell me one more time the enchantments you used?”  
  
Laughing, Hermione held up her clutch and tapped it saying, “Undetectable extension charm, followed by the featherweight charm. Whenever you want something, open it and use accio. Just be prepared to catch it on the fly.”  
  
“Did you ever think about using a shrinking charm on the things you put in and then enlarging them after you take them out?”  
  
“I did but I was worried that it would wear off. Those are notoriously faulty charms and I felt far more confident with the undetectable extension.”  
  
“Hmm, interesting. I’m glad, it’s awfully convenient right now. You really put pyjamas and clothing for tomorrow in there for both of us?”  
  
“Yep, plus a few other odds and ends, toiletries and such.”  
  
“Staying the night?” Draco asked as the women rounded the corner.  
  
“Not necessarily,” Narcissa hedged, cheeks pinking, “Hermione just likes to be prepared. If we drink too much firewhiskey she says Apparating is dangerous and we might have to get rooms here.”  
  
Hermione blinked at Draco, a few too many times to be considered strictly innocent.  
  
“Mother, can you check with Rosmerta that the catering’s all on schedule? 6:30 the food should be moved outside.”  
  
Narcissa nodded and immediately went inside, happy to help.  
  
Before Hermione could follow, Draco grabbed her arm, “Not so fast, Granger. What are you up to?”  
  
“Excuse me? I thought we were friends now, Draco?”  
  
“I thought so, too, but you’re obviously up to something with my mum and I want to know what.”  
  
Hermione flushed a bright red, “I’m marrying her in three months, Draco, I should think there are things that Narcissa and I are going to get up to that don’t concern you.”  
  
“When you’re convincing her to stay overnight in a pubhouse instead of just going home, it does concern me. My mother would never deign to sleep here.”  
  
“Well, your mother is a different woman now than she’s had to be for the last eighteen years,” Narcissa snapped, catching the end of the conversation. “Draco, I can tell you exactly what Hermione’s up to. We’re engaged to be married and she'd like to stay over somewhere together because she thinks it’s going to be romantic and she’s trying to get me into bed. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. It’s perfectly normal, in fact. We may stay over here tonight, we may stay at the guesthouse up the road, we may stay with a friend nearby, we may go home together, most likely we’ll go home to our separate houses. Whichever we choose, it’ll be up to us and I don’t want you interrogating her about it again.”  
  
Draco’s face had gone from red-cheeked to a hint of green. No young man wanted to think any of the thoughts Narcissa had just put in his head and he knew she did it on purpose. It served him right for confronting Granger, and he wouldn’t make that mistake again. “I apologize Mother, Hermione. You’re completely right, of course, your relationship is your business. I respect that. I have to go check with Headmistress McGonagall that everything is going smoothly.” Draco tipped his head and walked away.  
  
Hermione turned to Narcissa, absolutely glowing with happiness.  
  
“What is it?” Narcissa questioned.  
  
“Can I hug you?”  
  
“Of course, you needn’t ask,” Narcissa hardly finished the sentence when Hermione hugged her so tightly it knocked the breath right out of her. “I’m not complaining, dear, but what’s this for?”  
  
“You defended me, Narcissa. To Draco. No one defends me. No one’s ever defended me; not even Harry or Ron that I can recall.”  
  
Narcissa leaned down to kiss Hermione and murmured against the other woman’s lips, “it goes both ways, ‘Mione. We defend each other. It’s part of why this works.”  
  
They stood kissing and enjoying one another for a few long moments when they realized that the sound they heard was a camera shutter clicking away. They pulled back from one another and turned toward the sound together to find none other than the proverbial thorn in Hermione’s side, Rita Skeeter.  
  
“Still buzzing around, Skeeter? I thought you’d have flown off for better optics elsewhere,” Hermione snarked.  
  
Narcissa’s hand found its way to the small of Hermione’s back and felt the tension coiling itself there. She made small circles with her hand, exerting little pressure, just letting her fiancée feel her presence.  
  
Rita narrowed her darting, beady little eyes at the pair. “Stepping out on your boyfriends, are you? Haven’t changed much, I see,” she taunted Hermione.  
  
Narcissa laughed derisively, looking down her nose at the reporter, “I see you’re still the bottom of the journalistic barrel, Ms. Skeeter. Covering a bustling Saturday evening in Hogsmeade? Expecting a riveting game of Exploding Snap to break out?”  
  
“In fact, word is there’s some sort of illicit activity happening here this afternoon? Some sort of sedition. We all know if sedition is being plotted, Hermione Granger is usually the one behind it.”  
  
“Hmm, darling, are you being seditious? Sounds...fascinating,” Narcissa laughed again, turning the younger woman away from Rita and walking toward the courtyard nearby.  
  
Hermione’s arm wound around Narcissa’s waist, her hand resting on the skin bared along her spine. “You are entrancing, even when you’re being snooty,” she whispered.  
  
Narcissa laughed again, a high-pitched, not-quite-real giggle, intended to make people who heard it feel like they missed out on the joke. “Don’t worry, dear,” she spoke directly into Hermione’s ear, “I hope not to have to use that laugh very often at all any more. I can’t see us spending all that many evenings at the same dinner parties I used to attend.”  
  
Hermione didn’t answer, she felt...confused. Was Narcissa saying there wouldn’t be dinner parties or that they wouldn’t be invited? Was it Hermione’s fault?  
  
“Stop overanalyzing what I said. I simply meant I used that cloying, fake laugh frequently around a crowd of people you and I will, thankfully, not have to tolerate.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”  
  
“Hermione,” Narcissa murmured, so not to be overheard, “now that I know what to look for, I’m going to do my best to notice when you’re feeling worried.”  
  
Hermione turned her face to Narcissa and met the other woman in a quick kiss.  
  
“Think she got a photo of that one, too?” Narcissa asked teasingly.  
  
“Let’s hope so,” Hermione pulled Narcissa closer, “you look sinfully wonderful in these robes. The low cut of the back is particularly enticing,” Hermione practically growled, trailing her fingers slowly up and down Narcissa’s bare skin.  
  
“Hmm, and did you think the deep v neckline that goes to your naval in an otherwise traditional Basque dress robe was going to be simply overlooked?”  
  
“Honestly, Narcissa, I was truly too distracted by how you look to pay much attention to what I put on myself. You are truly gorgeous.”  
  
The taller woman blushed and rolled her eyes, “I think you’ve quickly developed a biased opinion on that.”  
  
“Nope. Sorry. I present only facts. Haven’t you met me? I’m Hermione Granger, if I say something, I probably read about it in Hogwarts, A History.” That got a true laugh out of one Narcissa Black.

The women made their way into the Three Broomsticks’ courtyard, still laughing together. Once inside they were accosted by Draco and Dean who were full of questions.  
  
“Was that Rita Skeeter?”  
  
“Was she alone?”  
  
“Was there anyone else from The Prophet?”  
  
“Was anyone there from The Quibbler?”  
  
“Did you tell her anything?”  
  
“Stop!” Hermione put her hands up and a pulse of magic gently pushed the two young men back a few steps.  
  
“Okay, whoa,” Dean said, wide-eyed, “What was that?”  
  
“Oh,” Narcissa chuckled a fake, little laugh, pulling her wand out, “it was me with a light Repellum spell. You were a little aggressive, gentlemen,” she said lightly, pulling attention away from Hermione’s pale face.  
  
Dean smiled and laughed a little in understanding, Draco looked back and forth between his mother and her fiancée.  
  
“Sorry Narcissa, Hermione; we just tried to be really careful with some charms and invitations to this event. We’ve set things up quite specifically and the last thing we need is Rita Skeeter or Kikus Trecus reporting verbatim on tonight’s ceremony.”  
  
“I just don’t know,” Draco added, “how they knew to be here. We didn’t even write it down anywhere.”  
  
Hermione raised one shoulder and interjected, “I’m sure you had to say something out loud about it when you spoke with Madam Rosmerta yesterday. There’s been a lot going on this week with the Decree coming out and people being assigned partners. I’m sure Rita’s been hanging around anywhere she thinks the action might be mentioned.”  
  
The foursome made their way across the courtyard to the center, where a small raised platform was set up. Draco continued, “I think I would’ve noticed Rita Skeeter. She was all over during the Tri-Wizard Tournament during our fourth year.”  
  
“No, you wouldn’t have. She’s an unregistered Animagus. She can turn into a beetle.”  
  
The other three just stared at her.  
  
“Okay, so, remember how she kept publishing garbage stories about Harry during the Tournament?”  
  
They nodded.  
  
“Well, she also went after me and I figured out how she was able to get all this inside information. I caught her, in beetle form, and put her in a jar that had an unbreakable spell cast upon it. In order to be free, she had to agree not to write for a year. She did and she followed through with it. Unfortunately, it didn’t last any longer than that and once the year was up, she went right back to her nasty ways.”  
  
Draco and Narcissa looked at one another in confusion. “So, turn her in, Hermione. You’re the biggest goody-two-shoes I’ve ever met. Just...turn her in.” Draco was astounded.  
  
“I can’t. I made a deal with her. She followed through. If I want to turn her in, I have to catch her again, fair and square.”  
  
“But, darling,” Narcissa stepped into Hermione’s space, “aren’t you concerned now about what she’s going to print about us?”  
  
“No,” Hermione smiled a little grin. “Why should I be worried? She’s been lying about me for years. If we’re concerned or if she prints things that we feel the need to actually confront we can do so but, otherwise, it won’t affect our lives.” Hermione turned to the body next to hers and reached up, clasping her hands behind Narcissa’s neck, “I don’t care what Rita Skeeter says. We’re still going to be married in three months, two weeks, and two days.” She stretched up on her toes to press a kiss to Narcissa’s lips.  
  
“Mmm,” Narcissa hummed into the kiss, clasping her own hands behind Hermione’s back. The two swayed together for a moment before Draco interrupted.  
  
“The dancing doesn’t start for another hour and a half. Can you two please go wait in that little tented area in the back? You’ll be escorted to your seats last before the ceremony itself starts. We just have one request.”  
  
“Of course, Draco, whatever you need,” Narcissa said, releasing Hermione and pressing a kiss to her son’s head.  
  
“At the end, when McGonagall says we can kiss, I’m going to twirl Dean around and dip him. I need you to say something loud and, kind of, I don’t know, dramatic.”  
  
Hermione smirked. “You can marry each other but you can’t kiss?”  
  
Narcissa looked more uncomfortable, she was biting the inside of her lip and wringing her hands. Finally, she shook her head and spoke up, “Draco. It’s not going to work.”  
  
Just then, guests began to enter.  
  
“Bloody hell,” Narcissa spat out. She pulled the soon-to-be-married couple to the side of the tent quickly explaining that they were going to be expected to kiss all night.  
  
“What? I thought we only had to kiss at the ceremony and we practiced how not to do that.”  
  
“It’s tradition. See the bells hanging in the center of the courtyard?”  
  
Both men nodded.  
  
“That’s been placed there specifically for your wedding reception tonight. Anytime a wedded witch or wizard passes under that bell, it’ll ring and you two have to kiss. All eyes will be on you every time. I know you’re just doing this because you’re trying to fight the MInistry but, Draco, you can not get yourself in trouble here. The Wizengamot wants nothing more than to put us in Azkaban, don’t give them a reason to do so.”  
  
“Shit,” Draco said, “I tried to research everything I could about weddings and receptions. I can’t believe I mi--” he was interrupted mid-word by Dean’s lips on his own.  
  
“Shut it, Draco. We’re just kissing. There won’t be many married people here tonight anyway and we never have to do it again. Okay?”  
  
“Good on you, Dean,” Narcissa approved. “I’m going into my little waiting area with Hermione. We’ll see you at the start.”  
  
She turned away to look for Hermione and found her young fiancée waiting, eyes trained on Narcissa, hand reaching out, palm up. Narcissa moved gracefully back across the tent where a few early guests were milling about. She grasped the hand offered to her, kissed the back of it and pulled it around herself.  
  
“This is ridiculous,” she said against Hermione’s lips once more.  
  
“What?” Hermione returned the kiss.  
  
“How my heart skips a beat when you reach a hand out to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a shorter one than I like to do but it felt like a good place to put a chapter break.


	10. The First Knot

Hermione and Narcissa stood silently together in the tent, waiting to be ushered to their seats, lost in their own thoughts. Both women jumped when the entrance was opened and they were requested to leave.  
  
“If you’ll each take an arm, I’ll escort you to your seats and then take my own,” Blaise Zabini said as the couple stepped forward.  
  
“Thank you, Blaise. I’m glad you’re here, it’s been a long time,” Narcissa said kindly, looping her arm through his own.  
  
“It has Lady Malf - I apologize,” he looked directly at Narcissa, “I mean to say, it has been too long, Miss Black.”  
  
Smiling, Narcissa simply patted his arm.  
  
As the trio started up the aisle toward their section, Narcissa was able to take in the seating arrangement. Instead of rows of chairs facing an altar, the guests formed two large semi-circles around a raised dais in the middle where Minerva McGonagall stood in a silver and white set of dress robes that showed her designation as the officiant. They heard music playing softly and Hermione’s eyes scanned the courtyard until they fell on Professor Flitwick playing the harp.  
  
Once Narcissa and Hermione had taken their seats facing McGonagall in the center of the front row of chairs in one semicircle, and Blaise had taken his on Narcissa’s other side, the music changed and Draco and Dean each walked up an aisle toward the center of the tented courtyard and one another.  
  
The two young men reached the dais at the same moment and stood looking at each other.  
  
“Witches and Wizards, family and friends, we are all gathered here today to witness the union of these two young men in accordance with tradition and law. Draco Lucius Malfoy and Dean Michael Thomas you are here today for the purpose of this union?”  
  
“We are,” they said together.  
  
Narcissa, hand firmly entwined with Hermione’s, reflexively squeezed the younger woman’s appendage.  
  
“You have taken into consideration the weight of the vows a union demands?”  
  
“We have,” they replied in unison.  
  
“You will follow through on the commitments you make to one another in this union?”  
  
“We will,” they answered.  
  
“Draco, will you honor and tend to Dean? Will you place his security above all others? Will you keep his secrets and share your own? Will you multiply his happiness and divide his sorrows? Draco, will you be loyal to Dean?”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“And Dean, will you do the same? Honor and tend to Draco? Place his security above all others? Keep his secrets and share your own? Multiply his happiness and divide his sorrows? Dean, will you be loyal to Draco?”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“Do you both so pledge?”  
  
“I do,” they spoke once more together.  
  
“I ask now,” Minerva looked between the two men, still waiting across from one another, not yet on the platform, “for you to come forward and join hands.”  
  
In perfect synchronicity, Dean and Draco moved up the two steps and across the dais to meet one another in the middle, directly in front of McGonagall, and took one another’s hands.  
  
“In these times in which we live,” she spoke to the crowd, “tumultuous, sometimes frightening, uncertain, it is important - no. It is crucial that we each find a person with whom we can feel safe. Another person who will listen to us when we have fears, laugh with us in moments of levity, cry in moments of loss. A partner who will honor our dreams and our goals,” Minerva glanced at Hermione before continuing, “a partner who will believe that we can attain them. A partner who will help us to push past our fears and trust ourselves,” she looked directly into Narcissa’s eyes for a beat. “It is so lovely to see a partnership such as that right now, after a period of such loss. Keep looking for the silver lining. Keep seeking the light through the darkness. Find your secret keeper, the one who will multiply your happiness and divide your sorrows.” She glanced between Narcissa and Hermione, “and hold on.”  
  
Minerva looked back at Draco and Dean and spoke to them once more, “Gentlemen, I shall not ask for objections. You are two strong, smart, resourceful young men; no one else can decide the status of your relationship now but you.”  
  
They nodded at her, once. In keeping with wizarding tradition, Minerva invited the guests to stand and contribute to the ending, “Everyone please rise and raise your wand hand.” She waited until the noise of people shifting to stand had died down before she finished, “If these vows have been taken and your loyalty is pledged, you may kiss one another,” she said carefully.  
  
Hermione, a split second behind Draco, grabbed Narcissa in her arms and spun her around to dip her back and kiss her. The older woman laughed loudly, drawing much attention to herself, and many of the guests laughed along with her.  
  
“The ceremony has concluded,” Minerva announced loudly, “Dean and Draco will receive guests and well-wishers just outside the courtyard as the reception seating is prepared.”  
  
Dean and Draco, hand in hand, circled around the dais once hugging and thanking their closest friends and family before heading up the aisle Draco had used earlier to wait in the little tented area for the guests to make their way out.  
  
Not surprisingly, Hermione and Narcissa made their way in. Hermione quickly pulled out her wand and cast a muffliato charm to prevent them from being overheard. “Are you crazy, Draco? If you get caught with this, Merlin knows what the Wizengamot will do to you!”  
  
Dean looked hurt, “And me, Hermione?”  
  
“No, Dean, of course, not,” Narcissa joined her fiancée, “I daresay the Wizengamot will paint you as a poor, unfortunate young man who was tricked by the dastardly offspring of the evil houses of Black and Malfoy. Draco, you’re smart. You’re great at research. But you take too many risks without thinking of the consequences. This was a very large, poorly calculated risk that could have terrifying impacts on you if you’re discovered.”  
  
“Mother, I do understand. I promise we’ve done nothing for which we can possibly be charged with a crime. No where did we announce that we were getting married. We didn’t send invitations to a wedding, nor did we even use the words wedding, marriage, or groom anywhere throughout the ceremony. The people we personally contacted received a letter inviting them for a reception with friends preceded by a ceremony. We were extremely careful not to permit anyone into the audience who would catch on and tell the Ministry exactly what was witnessed. If the Wizengamot and the community as a whole assume that our little spectacle today was a wedding, that isn’t our fault. If they assume it so greatly that they reassign Mrs. Runcorn and Mandy, even better.”  
  
“I hope you’re right, especially with Rita Skeeter waiting to pounce,” Hermione said quietly.  
  
“I have a feeling with two of the Golden Trio here tonight, there may be more than Rita Skeeter looking for a bit of news. Make certain when you step outside this tent you are ready to face whatever may be waiting.”  
  
Dean and Draco smirked at one another, “Well, you see, we were a bit more careful than just that. From outside the courtyard, you can’t see anyone in it because the whole thing is Disillusioned. We’d been talking to Harry and he told us all the spells and enchantments you used to protect yourselves while you were on the run, Hermione. We spent a fair amount of time this afternoon crafting an invitation only spell that would repel anyone we didn’t specifically want inside for the ceremony itself. Sort of a bastardization of repello muggletum, fidelius, and the password charm all mixed together.”  
  
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “That’s brilliant,” she was impressed. “Are you keeping it in place for the reception as well?”  
  
“No,” Draco sighed deeply, “but we will be removing the kissing bells. It’s not that I’m afraid to kiss Dean. I just want to be careful that there is no way it can be said a kiss makes this a legally binding marriage. We’re going to allow others to come in to the reception, we understand that that will probably include some uninvited guests like Rita Skeeter. I suspect if word has gotten out at all, Kikus Trecus, and even Adeline Adore from Witch Weekly will be here.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin, give me patience, Witch Weekly comes out tomorrow. We’ve been in here too long,” Narcissa said, “Brunch tomorrow. No excuses. At the Manor.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said right away.  
  
“Of course, Mother, we’ll be there. Let’s go, Dean. Time to face the music,” Draco smiled.  
  
The women followed Draco and Dean to the entrance and Narcissa, before Blaise Zabini could step forward, smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm. “Sorry, Blaise, I’m his mum, we’re going first,” she smiled, laughing lightly, to show she meant no rudeness or insult.  
  
“Of course,” Blaise dipped his head in acknowledgment, “I wouldn’t dream of making you wait, Mistress Black, Hermione.”  
  
They both thanked him and turned to face Dean and Draco. Air kisses abounded amongst them and Narcissa, before moving on, offered them the first bit of advice, “Gentlemen, put your arms around each other and each of you take a glass of champagne in your free hand. Trust me, it’ll keep you from having to shake hands with everyone in this line, which is growing by the moment, and you won’t have to kiss a hundred cheeks.” She reached up and patted them both on the cheek at the same time, graciously saying, “You’re welcome, my boys.”  
  
Blaise stepped up after Hermione and Narcissa had gone to offer his congratulations, he was followed by Luna, then Pansy, then Seamus, one after another many of their school friends entered with words of gratitude for being invited to the gathering.  
  
A few sets of parents of their friends headed in behind them, Pansy’s parents, of course, they had known Draco his whole life. Neville’s grandmother had arrived with him, not happily if the look on her face was anything to go by.  
  
“This is all very untraditional. No organist? No wedding party? Is there even to be a cake? There were no coins, no anvil. I’m very confused,” she said loudly.  
  
Draco, seeing Rita Skeeter just over her shoulder, quickly interrupted her rant, “I’m so sorry you couldn’t see everything from your position in the courtyard Mrs. Longbottom. We know our plans were rather last minute-”  
  
“But we’re ever-so-grateful you could make it,” Dean finished, tilting his head, so it rested against Draco’s.  
  
“Thanks for inviting us, guys,” Neville grinned at Dean, still a little unsure about Draco.  
  
“Say, Neville?” Draco said quietly, stepping forward to be able to keep his voice down.  
  
“Uh, y-y-yes?”  
  
“I was wondering if we could have a chat later? If that would be okay with you? I think I have some things for which I need to apologize but I’d like to have a little more privacy if that’s alright?”  
  
Neville looked at Draco, his eyes held wide open in shock. “That would be fine, Draco. I’ll be here.”  
  
“Thank you,” Dean said, “Please choose a seat at whichever table best suits you! Feel free to mingle and make new friends.”

As the last of the crowd made their way into the now well-filled courtyard, Draco turned to Dean and admitted to his exhaustion.  
  
“I know, man, me, too. I feel like I haven’t slept in days.”  
  
“Gentlemen,” Minerva interrupted, “I know you’re tired right now, I well remember that feeling after the receiving line was through but, sadly, no rest for the weary. I’m going to introduce you together, you’re going to walk the center of the dance floor, thank your friends for coming, and invite everyone to enjoy the delicious meal prepared by Madam Rosmerta and The Three Broomsticks. You get a break for a while to simply sit together and enjoy your dinner. No one should interrupt because you’ve waited through the entire receiving line. After dinner, you’ll have to dance the first dance.” She looked back and forth between them, waiting for an objection.  
  
“Do we have to dance the whole thing alone?” Dean asked.  
  
Chuckling, Minerva answered that they would not, other couples would be invited to join them after a minute or two.  
  
“Thank heavens,” he said, clearly relieved, “I’m a terrible dancer.”  
  
“The things I wish I’d known before today,” Draco said in a fair imitation of a long-suffering tone causing McGonagall to laugh all the way to center of the courtyard.  
  
“Sonorous,” she said, wand tip at her own throat to amplify her voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please! I present to you, the happy couple, Draco and Dean!”  
  
All of the guests stood at their respective tables to honor the two young men who made their way, hand in hand, through the tables to stand with McGonagall.  
  
She removed her wand from her throat to touch the tip to Dean’s as he spoke, “Draco and I would like to thank you all for joining us for this exciting and momentous day. We appreciate your presence and the opportunity to see so many dear friends. Please, everyone, enjoy the company at your table and the delicious meal prepared by Madam Rosmerta and The Three Broomsticks.”

Dean and Draco sat at a small table for two as their guests were all magically served plates of food. The noise level steadily rose as conversation began and people filled one another in on what they had been doing and what their plans were for the future. Draco heard his mother laugh and looked over to see Hermione smirking as she straightened up from whatever she had been quietly sharing with Narcissa. He continued to watch as she reached up and brushed a stray curl out of Hermione’s face before gently rubbing the younger woman’s cheekbone with her thumb.  
  
“What’s wrong, Draco?” asked Dean, blowing on a spoonful of soup.  
  
Draco looked at the man with whom he was sitting, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes just a bit. “Do you know, in my entire life, I’ve never heard my mother laugh that way outside of our home?”  
  
“Hmm?” Dean was clearly confused.  
  
“My mother. She’s over there laughing with Hermione. They’re at a table full of Hogwarts professors, some of the most respected and revered people in Hermione’s life, and yet the two of them can hardly stop touching one another, haven’t spoken to anyone else at the table, and my mother is laughing. Her real, true laugh.”  
  
Dean looked back and forth between Draco and Narcissa. “Well, they’re going to be married. For real. And, they’ve been together for months, so…”  
  
“Uh, no, of course,” Draco agreed, shaking his head lightly, “I’m actually quite happy for them, especially Mum. She deserves this.”  
  
“Yeah, and without Hermione we’d have never beaten Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters.”  
  
Draco placed his spoon across the top of the plate, signalling he was done with his soup.  
  
Once it had vanished, he turned to Dean with a very serious expression on his face, and spoke, “Dean. I know you and most of the world believe that Harry, Ron, and Hermione defeated the Dark Lord. But there are things you don’t know.”  
  
“Can you tell me?” He, too, got rid of his soup.  
  
“I’m not sure it’s my place to share. They aren’t all my stories to tell. Perhaps tomorrow at brunch you can ask my mother about some of them.”  
  
Dean reached over and grasped Draco’s forearm, “I will, Draco. We all need to know and honor each other’s stories. I’d also like to know your history in the war and I can share with you how I came to be a prisoner at Malfoy Manor.”  
  
Draco paled further. “I, I had forgotten you were locked up there.”  
  
Dean shrugged a little. He hadn’t been treated as poorly as some of the prisoners there, certainly he had been better off than poor Mr. Ollivander and Griphook the Goblin. It wasn’t one of his favorite memories but he had survived, escaped, and gone on to help defeat Voldemort.  
  
“We may...have a little problem,” Draco hedged.  
  
Dean sat up and looked Draco square in the eyes, “do tell.”  
  
“I inherited Malfoy Manor when my father was sent to Azkaban in June. I had intended for us to live there but if it’s too hard or too much for you, we can just get a flat somewhere.”  
  
“Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Of course,” Draco smiled, he didn’t want anyone to question their conversation topic.  
  
“If you inherited Malfoy Manor, why are you staying at Black Manor?”  
  
Draco glanced around and then carefully realigned the flatware at his seat, took a sip from his water goblet and finally, finally, took a deep breath and answered, “I wanted to stay with my mother. There is absolutely no cool way to spin that. For all her wealth and beauty and pureblood connections, she hasn’t had an easy life. I didn’t know when I was younger, but my mother was forced to marry my father because of some other family drama. He hadn’t really wanted her but he took her in place of my aunt who had run off. He made sure she always knew she was not his first choice. He was quite controlling of her and never listened to what she wanted or thought. Then he allowed Aunt Bella to bring the Dark Lord to Malfoy Manor and hid them there for a while which was, literally, hell on my mother.”  
  
“Draco,” Dean said, gently placing his hand on the other man’s back, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. If you’d rather, we can just stay at Black Manor.”  
  
Draco smiled at Dean, who was kinder than Draco was used to anyone being, and thanked him. “Though, I think Hermione is going to be moving into the Manor in December, so I’m not sure if that makes sense either. Maybe we can just discuss it with Mother tomorrow at brunch?”  
  
Dean nodded and patted Draco’s back softly.  
  
Salads appeared on everyone’s plates throughout the courtyard and the meal continued, the sounds of conversation and laughter filling the area with happiness. A few more guests straggled in slowly and found seats, joining the joyful atmosphere. Seeing one such straggler, Draco pulled Dean up with him and insisted they greet the man.  
  
“Hagrid!” Draco smiled as they approached, arm in arm.  
  
“Oy! There y’ar! How’d it go, boys?”  
  
“Perfectly without a hitch,” Dean answered, grinning.  
  
“Glad you could make it, there’s a seat for you with the other professors. Say, Hagrid?” Draco asked quietly before they made their way through the crowded tables.  
  
“What is it, Draco?”  
  
“I just, um, could you step outside with me for a second, I need to tell you something.”  
  
Hagrid, looking concerned, followed the young man.  
  
When they stopped just outside the entrance to the courtyard, Draco turned to fully face the half-giant and looked up into Hagrid’s kind eyes.  
  
“Hagrid, I owe you a huge apology. I was a jealous prat as a child and I made some really immature choices that could have led to you being fired and a hippogriff being killed. I’m, well, I know it sounds silly, but I’m trying to live a better life than my father and that starts with being honest and sincerely apologizing for the wrongs I’ve done. You’ve been a great help to me this summer with information about magical creatures and I really appreciate your knowledge.”  
  
“Aww, Draco, it’s no matter. Just like animals, I do.”  
  
Smiling, Draco nodded, “I know, you do. All the same, I hope you’ll accept my apology and we can continue to be friends.”  
  
“Oh, o’ course, I accept it. Now get in there to yer party, young man. I’m right behind ye.”  
  
“Thanks, Hagrid,” Draco smiled and held his hand out to shake. Hagrid did so and the two re-entered the courtyard, side-by-side, smiling.  
  
Dean was waiting, eyebrows raised, a small grin on his face.  
  
Narcissa was watching, head tilted.  
  
Hermione was wondering if Draco had apologized.  
  
All three seemed to be pleased with what they saw and Hermione smiled brightly realizing Hagrid would be joining their table. She stood to hug him as he approached.  
  
“Hey, there, Hermione! It’s been too long. You come ‘round for tea soon, you hear?”  
  
Hugging him, she promised she would. Before he could sit down, Hermione took Hagrid’s hand and pulled him over to Narcissa who stood.  
  
“Hagrid, you’ve probably met before, but just in case, I’d like to officially introduce you to my fiancée, Narcissa Black. Narcissa, I’m sure you know Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures.”  
  
“Professor Hagrid,” Narcissa said, “It’s a pleasure to make your formal acquaintance. I would like to apol-”  
  
“No need, ma’am,” Hagrid blushed, “If you’re good enough for our Hermione, you’re good enough for me. You just be sweet to that one, she’s a special witch.”  
  
Narcissa smiled up at Hagrid, “I couldn’t agree more, she certainly is special.” Narcissa wrapped her arm around Hermione’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.  
  
“Hagrid,” Minerva spoke, “were you able to help the herd find their missing member?”  
  
“Yes, Professor. The thestral foal was stuck in a bramble near the unicorns. We got him back.”  
  
Minerva nodded and raised her glass to Hagrid who smiled in response and joined them.  
  
With everyone once again seated, Hermione turned to Narcissa and murmured quietly in her ear, “Are you okay? We said some rough things to one another the other day about Hagrid.”  
  
“You, my dear, are far too good to me. I’m completely fine. I appreciate that he didn’t make me apologize for the past but I do wish I could have.” Narcissa answered quietly, looking into the eyes so close to her own.  
  
Hermione offered a small, supportive smile and pushed her plate a few inches forward.  
  
“Hermione, what are you up to? Didn’t see you at the start of term,” Hagrid asked across the table.  
  
“I, actually, will be visiting Hogwarts this week to hopefully meet with some professors and discuss the possibility of studying for my NEWTs without actually living in the castle.”  
  
“Well, that would be unusual, certainly,” Professor Slughorn pontificated, “Hermione, though, is so bright that, if anyone could make it work, she could.” He finished looking at Minerva.  
  
“It would be challenging to really get a handle on the practical side of your studies though, if you’re not taking classes,” Professor Flitwick added.  
  
Narcissa watched the conversation happen around her, realizing that the Headmistress was perhaps less than thrilled to have the discussion arise in such an informal setting. Looking at Hermione, she saw the anxiety rising in the redness of her ears, she reached over and subtly laid a hand on Hermione’s leg.  
  
“Of course, I’ll only be able to work independently with those professors who approve and think I’m capable of doing so. With all that I did and saw in the last year, I won’t be attending Hogwarts in a traditional sense this year no matter the decision, I just wouldn’t feel comfortable coming back to live in the castle again right now.”  
  
Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, and Rolanda Hooch all made immediate noises of understanding.  
  
“Miss Granger and I actually spoke about this earlier today and decided that she would come to Hogwarts at least one day a week to work in person with whomever agreed that she could take their subjects in this way. She will be working with me on Transfiguration, not Professor Willoughby.”  
  
“Thank you, Headmistress,” Hermione said graciously. She turned to glance at Narcissa only to find the woman looking back at her, an encouraging smile on her face.

“Well,” Slughorn chuckled, “I can’t see anyone having a complaint about it. Miss Granger is one of the hardest working and brightest students Hogwarts has ever seen!”  
  
Flitwick quickly agreed, saying he, too, would welcome an independent study with Hermione if that was how it needed to be worked out.  
  
“We will see you at the castle bright and early next Saturday, Miss Granger, to get all of your courses and materials squared away. Now, however, I believe our meal is finished and I have the honor of introducing the lovely couple for their first dance.” Minerva smiled and rose from the table to head over to Dean and Draco.  
  
After she had walked away, Professor Sprout leaned over to pat Hermione’s hand and tell her, “Now, don’t you worry. You know everyone at Hogwarts will do whatever you need to make sure you’re prepared to take your NEWTs whenever it works for you, dear.”  
  
Smiling, Hermione thanked the kind woman and turned to watch McGonagall. She leaned over and said something quiet to Dean and Draco, they looked at one another, smiled, and stood.  
  
Minerva’s voice rang out, “Honored guests, it is time for Draco and Dean to share the traditional first dance.”  
  
As the music began, the men bowed to one another and then quickly moved into a ballroom dancing pose. After a few spins around the dance floor, McGonagall invited their families to join them. Narcissa stepped out, Hermione’s hand in her own, and bowed her head to the new couple before she turned and took Hermione in her arms.  
  
The women began to dance and could feel everyone’s eyes upon them. “I’ve never been a good dancer,” Hermione whispered, “I’m so afraid I’m going to step on your toes and knock us both over.”  
  
“You won’t. Just stay with me. Come closer and move your body with mine,” Narcissa whispered back, directly into Hermione’s ear.  
  
“With your body against mine, I can hardly remember my own name, never mind remember to be worried about anyone else.”  
  
Narcissa placed a surreptitious kiss to Hermione’s neck, just below her ear before asking, “Why do you think I wanted you to come closer?”  
  
After a moment, Hermione pulled back a tiny bit so she could look at Narcissa. It took a few seconds for them to realize they hadn’t been joined by anyone else on the dance floor.  
  
It was a sobering moment. None of Dean’s family had joined them. They weren’t there.  
  
Suddenly there was a shuffling happening from the back of the guests, they heard a woman saying, “Excuse me! Excuse us, please! We must get through!”  
  
When she finally got to the edge of the dance floor, she looked right at Dean. “Dean, you’re like another son to me. May we join you for the family dance?”  
  
Clearing his throat, Dean nodded and spoke, “Of course, Mrs. Finnigan! You’re like a second mum to me!”  
  
And it was as though she had triggered a floodgate.  
  
Harry followed seconds behind the Finnigans with Luna on his arm. “Dean, you’re my Gryffindor brother, we came for the family dance.”  
  
Then Neville and his gran. Soon, Blaise Zabini stepped out with Cho Chang, “Draco, you’re my Slytherin brother. We’re here, too.”  
  
By the time the song had ended, the dance floor was packed with Hogwarts family. House brothers and sisters, once formed in the halls of Hogwarts Castle, those bonds were not so easily broken.  
  
“The dance floor is open for all guests!”  
  
And the party really got started. Nearly everyone spent time dancing the hours away. Though so many friendly and familiar faces were around them on the floor, Narcissa and Hermione never shared. Slow songs found their arms wrapped around one another or in perfect ballroom position, upbeat tempos found them moving around one another, teasing, smiling, and laughing the night away. The music was a mix of muggle and magical bands and an obscenely popular muggle song came on, apparently to the extreme delight of Hermione, who got a wicked look on her face.  
  
“Do you know this song?” She shouted over the music.  
  
“Definitely not,” Narcissa answered.  
  
Hermione laughed and stepped forward until her body was pressed completely against Narcissa’s and she held the other woman’s hips tightly in her hands forcing her to dance faster to the quick tempo. Hermione started singing along, “I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.”  
  
Giggling, Narcissa said, “Hermione this song is ridiculous!”  
  
“Just listen,” she said into Narcissa’s ear, nipping the earlobe in front of her. That caused Narcissa’s hands to tighten on Hermione.  
  
“Get my act together? I hope all these lyrics aren’t met for me, little Gryffindor,” Narcissa growled. Hermione laughed and turned in front of Narcissa so her back was pressed to Narcissa’s front. “If I want to be your lover? Teasing me again, darling? Remember, two can play at that game.”  
  
Hermione’s hands came up and made their way behind Narcissa’s neck, holding the other woman to her. Narcissa was holding Hermione’s hips, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together. Her right hand let go of the other woman’s hip and slid slowly across Hermione’s stomach to tease at the bottom of the deep v in the robes she was wearing. Their lips met in a heated kiss. Narcissa groaned into Hermione’s mouth before ending the kiss and making her way to her fiancée’s ear. “Hermione, maybe we should...mmm...maybe we should get some water. Or a glass of wine. Or a shot of firewhiskey.”  
  
Hermione, having had a bit of firewhiskey already, leaned more of her weight back against Narcissa and turned her head to nip again at the earlobe within reach. The twist in her body opened a gap between her robes and her abdomen, Narcissa’s hand - already there - slipped inside the front of Hermione’s robes. Feeling the soft skin beneath her palm, Narcissa’s hand clenched and her nails scraped just a little. Hermione let out a deep groan into Narcissa’s ear.  
  
“Darling, we’re about to give a lot of people a very private show before we’ve even experienced it for ourselves. Please, turn around and look at me.” Hermione didn’t move right away. “Please.”  
  
Hearing the pleading tone in Narcissa’s voice, Hermione immediately did as asked, “I’m sorry, ‘Cissa, I got a little carried away.” She leaned in to say the next part, not wanting to be overheard, “I have to admit, having your body so near my own does seem to cause my better judgement to disappear.”  
  
“Hermione, let’s agree right now to never apologize for wanting one another. We’ve both been concerned about...things...having to do with...things...but it’s wonderful to know this won’t be an issue.”  
  
Hermione wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s waist and simply rested her head on the other woman’s shoulder in a hug.  
  
Needing to change her thoughts away from how desperately she wanted Narcissa, Hermione said, “the last time I danced at a wedding we were interrupted by the fall of the Ministry and a group of Death Eaters showed up to capture us.”  
  
“What?!” Narcissa stepped back, eyes wide, jaw dropped.  
  
“Yeah. It was August first 1997. Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. That was the night Harry, Ron, and I went on the run.”  
  
“You weren’t captured?”  
  
“No, and I actually have no idea if anyone was. I don’t think so. I think the Weasleys were under surveillance after that but I don’t think anyone was actually captured.”  
  
“Oh, my dear Hermione, you are so courageous. You know, I would like to hear about your time on the run when you’re ready to share it with me.”  
  
“Ugh, it was a rough nine months but I’ll share it with you. Not all at once. It’s...too much to do all at once. But I want to tell you about it.”  
  
Narcissa leaned forward to share another kiss.  
  
Just then, Rosmerta’s staff carried out a large, delicious looking cake and Minerva asked the guests to please be seated for dessert.  
  
Rolanda Hooch, cheeks burning red, looked back and forth between Hermione and Narcissa as they sat. “So. I guess you really are getting married, huh?”  
  
“Yes,” Hermione said with a big smile, “December the twenty-first, Winter Solstice.”  
  
“I know, I don’t believe how lucky I am most days, either,” Narcissa shrugged.


	11. The Overnight

Most of the Hogwarts faculty and many of the guests had wished Dean and Draco well and headed home from the party after dessert was served.  
  
Minerva, too, was on her way out and stopped to speak to Narcissa and Hermione who were still seated at their table and quietly sipping tea.  
  
“Ladies, I do own a cottage up the road, and you’re more than welcome to stay there this evening if you’d like.”  
  
“That’s a lovely offer, Headmistress, thank you,” Narcissa smiled, “Hermione, what do you think? I know you’re well prepared for a night away.”  
  
Seeing the blush gracing Hermione’s cheeks, Minerva added, “I call it a cottage but it has three bedrooms, a sitting room, and a kitchen, of course. It’s just up the road, turn on Lamb and it’s the second on your left.”  
  
“That does sound nice,” Hermione smiled.  
  
“I’ll just let Winky know, she’ll meet you there and let you in...whenever you’re done here. It doesn’t look like the party’s wrapping up any time soon,” she laughed.  
  
Looking around, Narcissa had to agree. The sun had set and the courtyard was lit only by floating candles and luminaries but the dance floor was quickly filling back up with Draco, Dean, and their friends.  
  
“Just a few more dances with you and we can go,” Hermione said, grinning at Narcissa again.  
  
“Enjoy your evening, ladies, don’t rush on my account. Winky won’t mind a bit what time you arrive. She’s taken to staying at the cottage herself and will absolutely love to have some witches to look after for a night.”  
  
“Thank you, it’s much appreciated. Perhaps we’ll see you for tea in the morning?”  
  
“Perhaps,” Minerva smiled and bid them goodnight.

“Hermione,” Narcissa said, nearly whining, into her fiancée’s ear, “I was serious about nothing more than kissing. I don’t know how much more dancing with you I can take tonight.”  
  
“Mmmm, just dance until there’s one more slow song. After that we can go. I’ll be nice, promise,” Hermione winked, walking backwards towards the dance floor, pulling Narcissa along by the hand. “Please?”  
  
Narcissa rolled her eyes, smirking, and used her long legs to catch up to Hermione. She continued to hold the other woman’s hands in her own and gently wrapped them behind Hermione’s back, leaning down as she kissed the younger woman. “I may suffer for it later but I will dance with you as long as you want to.”  
  
Hermione returned her kisses, passionately, and teased, “there’s no reason to suffer, darling. We’re two consenting adults.”  
  
“Yes, dear,” Narcissa released Hermione’s hands and held the face in front of her own, “we’re two consenting adults who respect one another and are going to wait more than five days to jump into bed together. I would prefer we wait until the twenty-first of December.”  
  
“I’m simply saying, Narcissa, that we’ve far surpassed the three date rule.”  
  
“The three date rule?”  
  
“Yes, this is at least our eighth date. We could...enjoy one another with no guilt.”  
  
Narcissa, wide eyed, shook her head, “I’ve never heard of a three date rule, though I can assume I know what it means. However, I’m sorry to disappoint you, I shan’t abide by it.”  
  
“Oh, ‘Cissa,” Hermione laughed, hugging her, “I’m just teasing you. This is all fun - and rather exciting - but I’m not ready either. I am definitely enjoying the build up, though.”  
  
“You’re terrible. Dance with me,” she returned the laughter.  
  
Looking around as they took to the floor to Faith Hill’s “This Kiss”, Hermione immediately pressed her lips back to Narcissa’s. “We’re being watched,” she said against Narcissa’s mouth.  
  
“You don’t sound happy about that.”  
  
“I think she’s Adeline Adore from Witch Weekly and they publish tomorrow. It’ll be their first issue since the Decree came out.”  
  
“Then I imagine she’s going to report on us. We did send an Engagement Announcement to print today.”  
  
Sighing, Hermione hugged Narcissa tightly, “I know. I’m just wondering what she’s going to say about us. Shall we maybe talk to her before we leave?”  
  
“Darling, if you’re worried about what she’s going to say, let’s sit down with her and give an official interview. White knight? Fast horse? Ride you off into the sunset? You like this music? What is this accent?”  
  
Cracking up, Hermione answered, “Faith Hill is from the States, this is a country song and it’s pretty new. I just think it’s sweet. And your kisses are unstoppable and perpetual bliss. Honestly, can you tell me that our first kiss wasn’t a pivotal moment?”  
  
Standing still, Narcissa looked into Hermione’s golden brown eyes and completely agreed.  
  
“Do you want to know something, Narcissa?”  
  
“Always…”  
  
“I love that it was in the National Gallery...I don’t know why. It just feels mystical and beautiful and perfect to me.” Hermione watched as Narcissa’s eyes filled with tears.  
  
“It was, all of those things.”  
  
Narcissa was happy the next song slowed the tempo down. A love song from the Weird Sisters that allowed them to remain with their arms wrapped around one another and their heads pressed together.  
  
“Okay, let’s just walk to the bar near Adeline and see if she talks to us. If she does, we’ll answer what we feel is appropriate. If not, we can have another drink and then head to the cottage?”  
  
“Sounds good, Hermione,” Narcissa smirked.  
  
“What?” Hermione lightly poked the other woman’s side.  
  
Narcissa laughed again, “I just think it’s cute that everything has to have a plan.”  
  
The two were still smiling as they reached the bar and each asked for water and wine. It took only ten seconds for them to be approached.  
  
“Excuse me,” a chirpy little voice interrupted.  
  
They turned together to see Adeline smiling at them, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Miss Black, Miss Granger, I’m Adeline Adore. I’m covering parts of the Replenishment Decree for Witch Weekly. I usually write the ‘Stick It Out’ column, if you’ve read it.”  
  
“I have,” Narcissa said drily. “You’re the one who encourages young witches to find a way to stick it out in their current relationship whether or not it’s actually better for them.”  
  
“Um, well, when you look at it that way it sounds awful but, it isn’t like that. I respond to every letter I receive and, in nearly all of them, I advise the witch or wizard to terminate the relationship. You only read the silly ones in the column where the solution is obvious.”  
  
Narcissa nodded.  
  
“Not to be rude,” Hermione interjected, “but was there something you wanted?”  
  
“Oh,” Adeline got flustered, “I just wondered if you had anything to share about your betrothal or today’s wedding. Or if you know of any other upcoming weddings that haven’t been announced.”  
  
Narcissa tilted her head and pursed her lips. “I don’t think Hermione or I have much to add to our Engagement Announcement unless you have a specific question. We were pretty forthright with the information we’ve already put out there.”  
  
“Would you care to compare your choice to your son’s? You two were both assigned a different partner but went to the Ministry to request reassignment to one another. Your son and his boyfriend were assigned different partners and they simply ignored the Ministry and married one another anyway. Any comments?”  
  
“None.” Narcissa’s voice could’ve frozen water itself.  
  
“One might think, or speculate, rather, that other couples will do as Draco and Dean did and not seek permission. What’s the need, really? If the Ministry wants us all married off, why do they care to whom?”  
  
“They care to whom because we have to also reproduce,” Adeline answered.  
  
“Hmm,” Narcissa merely hummed her response and looked away.  
  
Hermione waited a beat before asking a question of her own, “Adeline, who are you marrying?”  
  
The reporter blushed bright red, “I’m not. I haven’t. The Ministry has not yet given me a partner.”  
  
“Oh,” Hermione winced dramatically and made significant eye contact with Narcissa.  
  
“What? What’s wrong?”  
  
“You’re really waiting? For the government to choose your spouse? Do you even know who’s doing the assigning?”  
  
“Yes. There’s a special department for it! They have the most empathetic witches working there, I bet!”  
  
Narcissa and Hermione moved away from the bar, arm in arm, and smiled at Adeline piteously.  
  
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” Hermione placed her free hand on the reporter’s forearm, “but the assignments are being selected by one young wizard who is working in the Muggle-born Registration Commission office. If you’re covering this for Witch Weekly, a lot of readers are going to depend on you for information about the Decree. You might want to consider visiting the Ministry and checking on the Assignment Chair yourself.”  
  
“Good evening, Adeline. I do hope you enjoyed the party,” Narcissa said kindly.  
  
The witch just stood watching the unexpected couple leave together, off the dance floor, through the courtyard, and into the darkness beyond...never letting go of one another or even missing a single step.

“Muffliato,” Narcissa whispered as they reached the street.  
  
“Do you think it worked?”  
  
“That was brilliant, Hermione. Now she’ll be reporting on the wand-check, the Decree, and the Department. You are the poster child for Slytherin cunning right now.”  
  
“Must be the dress,” Hermione teased.  
  
They walked silently together toward Minerva’s cottage, each lost in her own thoughts.  
  
“I love how you can see so many stars from Hogsmead,” Narcissa whispered.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Hermione agreed. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again, “Are you sure you want to stay at McGonagall’s cottage?”  
  
“I am. It’ll be nice to have a night away, like a vacation. She’ll probably come for tea in the morning and then we can have brunch with the boys at the Manor.”  
  
They continued their walk in comfortable silence, hands entwined, taking their time. They weren’t rushing, they were strolling down the moonlit road. Their slow pace and lack of conversation were lucky...had they been moving more quickly or talking they probably wouldn’t have noticed that they were being followed.  
  
“Wand at the ready, darling, there’s someone behind us,” Narcissa murmured into Hermione’s ear.  
  
“I thought so. Just one I think. Body-bind or disarm?”  
  
“You disarm, I’ll shield. Ready?” Hermione nodded. “And. Go.”  
  
They turned in unison and both silently cast their spells…  
  
“Ugh, you? Again?”  
  
“Get used to it, witches,” Rita sneered, “I know there’s a story here and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”  
  
“We already scooped you, Skeeter. We announced our own engagement. There’s nothing else to share.”  
  
“What is it you’re looking for? I’m actually quite boring, isn’t that why you had to make up all those other stories about me? I guess I can’t really fault you for taking photos earlier, Narcissa is absolutely stunning but you’re not even doing that right now. You’re just being creepy,” Hermione shivered and looked at Rita with an expression mixing pity and disgust.  
  
“I’m not creepy! I’m a journalist! A reporter! You’re lying about something and I’m going to figure out what!” Rita was losing control, spitting as she shouted, face going red. “You ruined me once before but I came back. I got published again. You can’t stop me!”  
  
“Rita,” Hermione put both hands up, palms out, showing the woman she meant no harm, “I’m not trying to stop you. If you’re referring to what happened a few years ago, I have no intention of blackmailing you again and I’m sorry for doing it before. You were publishing lies and I didn’t know how to stop you any other way. I had hoped you would come clean with the Ministry yourself but, if you don’t, it’s on your conscience, not mine. If you’re following us now hoping to get some dirt on me to publish, there’s nothing. You’ve already done your worst. You printed a story not a month ago claiming I was pregnant with Harry’s baby - I’m not, by the way, if you’re curious. Also, not sleeping with Harry. Nor Ron. Thanks.”  
  
“You think I’ve done my worst, little girl, just you wait. After my book hits the stands this month, everyone will be begging for my articles. Then, I think I’ll write a book on you. Hmm...Hermione Granger’s Success: Brilliance or Blackmail?”  
  
“You can try, you worthless hag, but you’ll have to contend with me. I’m not Hermione. I’m not kind or a bleeding heart. I don’t think everyone has value. In fact, I think you’ve just outlined for us exactly how you have none. I spent a long while surviving the Dark Lord and his most trusted lieutenants living under my roof, you want to try me?” Narcissa moved within inches of Skeeter’s face and stared down at the shorter woman as she finished, “I dare you.”  
  
Rita stuttered and stumbled and got nothing out in her own defense.  
  
Narcissa glanced up and saw the acid-green Quick Quotes Quill taking notes on their conversation, smirking, she left Rita with one last word before she walked away, “Incendio.”  
  
The reporter’s notebook and quill burst into flames, destroying her misquoted representation of their words.  
  
As Narcissa came nearer, Hermione held out her hand. “Where’s her wand, cub?”  
  
“Here,” Hermione held out her hand, displaying a short, elaborately carved wand.  
  
“I’m going to ask you to do something very childish,” Narcissa smirked. Hermione nodded, eyebrows raised. “Would you hold it up, so she sees that you have it and then throw it as hard as you can back toward the Three Broomsticks?”  
  
“Gladly.” When Hermione held Rita’s wand in the air she had to wave it around a bit for the reporter to notice she had it but when she did, she panicked.  
  
“Don’t! Don’t break it! Give it here!”  
  
Hearing that, Hermione held the tip, pulled her arm back and whipped it forward with all her might watching it spin end over end through the air. It landed in the street and bounced and rolled out of sight. Rita went scurrying after it.  
  
“I don’t think she’ll come back tonight,” Hermione said.  
  
Narcissa wasn’t so sure and maintained the shield charm around them as they continued their walk to the cottage. “Have you ever been so tired you came all the way back around to awake again? And that adrenaline rush just made me feel so oddly detached.”  
  
“Oh, yes. I’ve been there. A few too many times in the last year. Especially the time I took the Bellatrix Polyjuice Potion.”  
  
“The what?” Narcissa stopped moving.  
  
Hermione turned, walking backwards once more, pulling Narcissa with her, “I took Polyjuice Potion to turn into Bellatrix once. It was disgusting, she tasted worse than Gurdyroots.”  
  
“Can you please never, ever talk about what my sister tasted like ever, ever again?”  
  
Hermione smirked, then bit her cheek, then both of her lips, finally a giggle burst out. “I’m sorry! It’s just so funny, I didn’t mean it like that! Oh, goodness, I think I’m overtired.” She couldn’t stop the giggling once she started.  
  
Though Narcissa desperately wanted to ask why Hermione had taken Polyjuice Potion to turn into Bellatrix, her very own torturer, it was just not the right moment.  
  
“I think this is it,” she turned onto a curving path that led to a quaint, stone cottage with a wooden front door.  
  
As the witches approached the door, it was pulled open by Winky the House Elf. “Good evening, Mistresses. Professor McGonagall says you’re going to be staying here tonight. Come in, come in, come in. Winky got rooms ready for you and tea ready for you and drew a bath for you both.”  
  
“Hello, Winky! Thank you so much for sharing the cottage with us tonight and getting all of that ready for us to stay,” Hermione said quietly.  
  
“You are welcome. Come see your rooms. Professor says two rooms and two baths.”  
  
“And she’s quite right, Winky, thank you,” Narcissa spoke up.  
  
Winky closed the door and then ran around the two women to lead them through the sitting room into a short hallway. She gestured to two doors, side by side, and told the women they could choose. She explained that there were attached washrooms in each - though she did use different wording.  
  
“Thank you, Winky, have a good sleep. We’ll shout if we need anything. Do let us know if we’re bothering you,” Hermione said, kneeling before the elf.  
  
“See you in the morning,” Winky said before walking back through the sitting room to disappear into her own sleeping area.  
  
Turning to smile at Narcissa, Hermione found the other woman leaning against the doorframe, watching.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“Absolutely,” Narcissa smiled tiredly, “I’m rather looking forward to the bath Winky’s drawn for me.”  
  
“As am I,” Hermione stretched up on her toes and lightly kissed Narcissa’s lips once more. “Let me pull out the things I packed for you and off you go.”  
  
After a few moments spent summoning various articles of clothing from Hermione’s magically enhanced handbag the women separated to have their own relaxing baths.

Half an hour later found Hermione stepping back into the hallway, skin fresh and clean, smelling like lavender and vanilla and ensconced in her softest pyjamas. Narcissa’s door was still closed so Hermione made her way alone back to the sitting room and found the kitchen. She poured them each a glass of cold water and added a few slices of lemon from a bowl in the refrigerator. Hermione settled herself on the couch, where she would see Narcissa’s door if it opened. She hoped her fiancée would come out to say goodnight.  
  
Though she waited longer than expected, Hermione was not disappointed and Narcissa stepped tentatively into the sitting room. “I didn’t...this is going to sound so silly,” Narcissa sighed.  
  
“What? Come tell me anyway,” Hermione held out her hand without getting up from the couch.  
  
Narcissa smiled and silently took Hermione’s offer, sitting next to the younger woman. “I didn’t want to go to sleep without saying goodnight to you.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s silly at all. I was hoping you’d come back out here after your soak. I got you a glass of water with lemon.”  
  
Narcissa kissed the cheek next to her own and whispered her thanks before moving to drink almost the entire glass.  
  
Hermione laughed again, “I guess you were a little thirsty?”  
  
“After all that dancing and wine? I feel like a desert!”  
  
Hermione hummed in agreement and waited for Narcissa to settle back next to her.  
  
After a while, Hermione spoke again, “It occurs to me that we should perhaps consider attending more weddings in the next few months.”  
  
“Not that I disagree but what prompted that thought just now?”  
  
“A few things actually. First, I want to dance with you again. Second, it was nice to see some traditional wedding elements that we may want to incorporate. Third, it’ll keep reminding people that we’re an actual couple, not just names on a paper.”  
  
“I’m going to counter your statement, not because I necessarily disagree with you but I just want us to think of multiple angles, okay?”  
  
“Go ahead,” Hermione raised her eyebrows.  
  
“We’ve agreed, more than once, that even though we originally decided to partner with one another to turn the Ministry on its ear and defy the Decree, we’re going to treat this like a true partnership, right?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“With that in mind, we definitely, one hundred percent, look, to other people, like a couple who is...very...interested in one another. I’m not sure our public appearances are going to have the intended effect.”  
  
“The effect of lighting the spark?”  
  
Narcissa nodded.  
  
“Honestly? I wasn’t thinking about it for a moment. I was actually just thinking about us and our wedding. Foolish of me, I know, we’re only getting married because of the Decree in the first place.”  
  
Narcissa sat up and turned toward the younger woman. “Hermione, no. We agreed to get married because of the Decree. We’re getting married because it’s, surprisingly, the right thing for both of us, isn’t it? Were you lying when you said you had a deep certainty in your soul? I wasn’t. I do have that certainty that I am going to be marrying the best person on the twenty-first of December.”  
  
Hermione smiled and looked into Narcissa’s ice blue eyes. “No. Not lying. Just tired and a little...vulnerable right now.” Hermione reached up and pressed her hand to Narcissa’s cheek. “I’m certain that we will be very happy together.”  
  
Narcissa relaxed sideways into the back of the couch, snuggling into Hermione’s embrace.  
  
“Mmm, let’s just stay here for a few minutes before we go to bed, okay, darling?”  
  
“Of course, Cissa, just a few minutes.”  
  
And within those few minutes, both women were sound asleep.  
  
Winky quietly refilled their glasses in case they needed more water and then covered them with a soft blanket before she, too, fell asleep in her own little cupboard.

Narcissa awoke slowly to the sound of a kettle whistling nearby. She had an interesting crick in her neck and it took her a long moment to realize her pillow was Hermione. The two of them had somehow managed to shift in their sleep and were nearly lying down across the couch, wrapped up completely in one another.  
  
"The kettle, good that means tea will be ready soon...Tea? Oh, Merlin, McGonagall’s already here," Narcissa thought.  
  
“Hermione...Hermione, darling, wake up,” Narcissa said quietly.  
  
“Mmm, no. Stay here. Still so sleepy,” Hermione pulled Narcissa back into her arms.  
  
Minerva, having heard the quiet voices, stepped silently into the sitting room. She caught Narcissa’s eye and, smiling, shook her head. “Don’t rush up on my account,” she said, almost without sound, “I’ve always been an early riser.”  
  
“If you’re sure? We did stay up rather late last night dancing and talking. And being followed by Rita Skeeter,” Narcissa rolled her eyes.  
  
“Absolutely. I’m going out back with Winky. Join us at the pond whenever you’re ready. Take your time, Miss Black. No need to get up just yet.”  
  
After McGonagall stepped back into the kitchen and closed the door behind her, Narcissa laid her head right back on Hermione and closed her eyes willing sleep to claim her once again.


	12. And So, We Plan

Hand in hand, Narcissa and Hermione made their way down to the pond behind the cottage. They could see Minerva and Winky sitting together on a bench, having a chat and, as they drew closer, overheard what Winky was saying.  
  
“Professor, they house elves are happy with the terms. They like the money they make. Sometimes they want a different cupboard. And maybe a different shirt. But the money is good.”  
  
“Alright, Winky, I’ll leave it to you then to come up with a housing arrangement that works for everyone. Just let me know how you’re expanding the castle so I know where everyone will be. I have no problem allowing for variation in the Hogwarts House Elf uniforms. Do you have some ideas?”  
  
Hermione was so happy with what she heard she thought she might burst and she squeezed the hand in hers almost painfully.  
  
“Yes, I do. The kitchen House Elf needs to wear kitchen clothes.”  
  
“You mean an apron? Or a chef’s jacket and toque?”  
  
Winky was quiet for a moment and looked over at Hermione and Narcissa as they sat on the bench next to theirs. She tugged on her little ear, a nervous habit.  
  
“Go ahead, Winky. What do you think?”  
  
“Professor, did you know that Tatum and Brodie had hurts last week?”  
  
“Tatum and Brodie? From the Hogwarts kitchens?”  
  
Winky nodde.  
  
“No, Winky,” McGonagall said, concerned, “I didn’t know. What happened? Are they alright?”  
  
“They were making pudding for the Feast on the first day of school and burned their arms holding the pot to pour the boiled water. It happens every time we make pudding. We have little arms and there’s too many elves in the kitchens to use our magics carefully.”  
  
Minerva pressed a hand to her sternum and gasped. “Winky, are you telling me that for hundreds of years elves have been injuring themselves to cook at Hogwarts and no one has ever helped you?”  
  
“Um. I think so?”  
  
Hermione turned away from Winky and McGonagall to press her forehead against Narcissa’s shoulder. She whispered, “I wanted to stop exactly this from happening.”  
  
“Chef’s jackets. Pants. Shoes. More room in the kitchens. Smaller utensils and tools so the House Elves can safely hold them without injury. Ovens, stoves, and sinks at an appropriate height for House Elves. Winky, I want to know about Elf injuries from now on. I’ll be checking on Tatum and Brodie this evening to make certain they’ve healed from the burns. Anything elves need to wear for safety, let’s make available as part of their Hogwarts House Elf uniform. Any elves who go into the Forbidden Forest should have shoes, for example. Elves who help Hagrid with magical creatures should have gloves. Elves who go out in winter to clear snow and ice should have boots and hats. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Professor,” Winky smiled, “black and white for castle elves. House color for elves who do the House dormitories?”  
  
“A solid plan,” McGonagall smiled back.  
  
“Winky will go and write it all down now. It will be in the Headmistress office at Hogwarts when you get back,” the little elf hopped down from the bench and waved goodbye to the three witches before she popped out of sight to do her work.  
  
Hermione, grinning, asked, “Winky is the Hogwarts House Elf representative?”  
  
“She is,” Minerva smiled, “even though she often chooses to sleep here at the cottage rather than the castle. None of the other elves seem to mind. It’s a big job she’s doing and she takes it rather seriously.”  
  
“Can I ask when this started?”  
  
The Headmistress nodded and spoke, “I assume you know they joined us in the Battle of Hogwarts? Kreature led them up from the kitchens and they were actually rather helpful. No one, it seems, knows Hogwarts better than a House Elf. After that, I couldn’t just let them fade back into the anonymity of invisible servitude. They deserve more. Though, it hasn’t been an easy go.”  
  
“No,” Narcissa joined, “I know it seems counterintuitive to humans but House Elves really don’t have any idea of their own value.”  
  
“And yet Hogwarts School couldn’t function without them!”  
  
“You’re right, Hermione, and that’s exactly what I told them. I also said that in the next few years there would be legislation passed that required everyone to prove that they were treating their House Elves, Garden Gnomes, and other magical creatures with respect and dignity. I told them they would be helping set an example for the whole magical world of Britain if they would let Hogwarts pay them. Some elves completely agreed but drew the line at getting clean clothes. Some refuse the money and so it goes into a communal account for any elves who won’t take a paycheck in case they ever need money.”  
  
“So, how are you going to get them to wear the kitchen uniform if they refused clean clothes.”  
  
“Oh, that was the easiest to deal with. We just explained that part of the being treated with respect meant being given a uniform to represent the place they live and work. So far, that uniform has mostly been a clean potato sack which is not quite what I envisioned.”  
  
“You think they’ll go from wearing a clean potato sack to a full chef’s jacket and pants?” Narcissa laughed.  
  
“I’m sure there will be some resistance but I can’t have them getting injured any more, that’s horrid!” Minerva was aghast.  
  
“I hate to say this because I want all creatures to be free but, if you tell them the uniform isn’t theirs to keep but it belongs to the school and they simply are required to wear it, they will,” Hermione offered. “Have Winky explain it to them in a way that makes it sound like a demand rather than something for them.”  
  
Narcissa wrapped an arm around Hermione’s slumped shoulders, “Darling, I know you want to free every elf in the land right this second, but that goal starts this way. First, we have to treat them as though they have value then we can convince them to also believe it. When they realize they’re no longer getting injured while cooking, they’ll appreciate the jackets and pants. Then they’ll come to see them as their own. Give it time. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”  
  
“I know,” Hermione agreed, looking out over the pond, “I just hate tricking them.”  
  
“We’re not tricking them. We’re caring for them when they won’t care for themselves.”  
  
“Narcissa’s right, Hermione. Did Harry and Ron always make good choices at Hogwarts? Or last year while you were on the run?”  
  
Hermione snickered and shook her head.  
  
“Did you sometimes have to force them to do their homework, study for a test, get some sleep?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Were you just bossing them around because you wanted to or were you caring for them in the best way you could at the time?”  
  
“I was caring for them in the best way I could,” Hermione answered quietly. “Thank you, Professor.”  
  
Minerva poured three cups of tea from the tea service sitting on the table next to her and handed one to Narcissa and Hermione. The three sat in peaceful quietude, enjoying the warm, sunny morning and birdsong above them.  
  
“Well, Hermione,” Minerva broke the silence, “I’m sure you were pleased to hear from the Hogwarts faculty last night.”  
  
“Oh, Professor McGonagall, I had no intention of having that conversation last night. I know you wanted to speak to them first.”  
  
“It’s no matter now, dear. You’re right, I wanted to discuss it as a full faculty but, seeing as we’ll have two other rather large discussions on our agenda today, it’s just as well.”  
  
Hermione slumped down, relieved that her favorite professor wasn’t upset with her.  
  
“If I may?” Narcissa said quietly. Both women nodded at her.  
  
“After hearing from a few of them last night, I did consider that it might be more prudent if Hermione, instead of going to the castle for one full day per week, simply set up an individual schedule with each professor with whom she’s planning to study.”  
  
“That might be better for the professors. Especially if they’re going to have Apprentices this year with whom they’ll have to work,” Hermione agreed.  
  
“I have to agree. If we add sixty more seventh year students and even twenty Apprentices it’s going to alter our schedule a bit. It might take another week before any professors know when they can see you, Miss Granger.”  
  
“That’s quite alright, Headmistress, I understand. Please, take care of those first. I’m getting married regardless. I’m not looking to go back to school to avoid the Decree,” Hermione turned and met Narcissa in a gentle kiss.  
  
“I hope that’s not the only reason they’re all coming back,” McGongall frowned, setting down her teacup and walking toward the water’s edge.  
  
“Oh, I don’t think so. No one would willingly submit themselves to the work of seventh year if they didn’t want to. Even if the main goal is avoiding an assigned marriage, they won’t want to be expelled, they’ll do their work,” Hermione hedged.  
  
“And the Apprenticeships will be great for our community,” Narcissa agreed, “I was just speaking with someone last week about the lack of appropriately trained employees in the Ministry. It seems, sometime in the last two decades, the Ministry stopped requiring witches and wizards applying for employment to have completed even a basic Apprenticeship, never mind a proficient or mastery level. It’s my opinion that a lot of the blind subservience inside the Ministry could be mitigated by a more educated and experienced contingent of Ministry workers.”  
  
Hermione blinked owlishly at her fiancée, appreciating her detailed opinion but blindsided by it.  
  
“What?” Minerva practically shouted. “They don’t require apprenticeships anymore?”  
  
“Headmistress,” Hermione said slowly, “They’ve invited Harry and Ron to be Aurors. They didn’t even attend their seventh year at Hogwarts and the six years they did attend were filled with disjointed studies and poor grades from one of them. I will literally never understand how Ron Weasley was Prefect over Dean Thomas or Harry, for that matter.”  
  
“Dumbledore,” Minerva shook her head. “He was manipulating things that were years away. He had been watching Harry more closely than any of us knew and had seen Ron’s jealousy. Naming Ron school Prefect was his way of trying to make Ronald feel more equal to Harry. He was trying to force their friendship to last. Now, can you please explain exactly what you mean by ‘invited Harry and Ron to be Aurors’ because that is completely illogical. Aurors require at least five NEWTs at Exceeds Expectations or higher and an additional three years of training. How could they possibly have been invited to become Aurors?”  
  
“Minister Shacklebolt decreed that anyone who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and didn’t switch sides, flee, or die met the minimum requirements to become an Auror.”  
  
“That is...wildly dangerous.”  
  
Narcissa pressed her lips together and chose not to comment.  
  
“Ronald Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom are now deemed Auror material because they didn’t die in battle?”  
  
Hermione nodded, a grave expression on her face.  
  
“We are going to have an entire generation of Aurors with no training out in the world after they’ve witnessed war. They haven’t even finished their schooling properly. There’s no way they’ve dealt with the fall out of the things they’ve seen and done,” Minerva dropped her head into her hands. “Is Harry going to be an Auror?”  
  
“He is. As is Ron,” Hermione confirmed.  
  
“Oh, Merlin. I guess I’m sending an owl to Kingsley today.”  
  
“I apologize, Headmistress, but on that note, we actually have to be going. We’re having brunch with Draco and Dean at the Manor and have to get there.”  
  
“And Harry, Hermione, don’t forget,” Narcissa said, reaching out a hand to her still seated fiancée.  
  
“Of course, and Harry,” Hermione smiled.  
  
“Thank you very much for allowing the use of your lovely cottage last night. The stars were beautiful on our walk here.”  
  
Standing, Minerva reached out and took their hands in her own, “You’re quite welcome. If you care to use it during the year while Hermione’s at Hogwarts, simply owl me and I’m sure we can work it out. There may be late evenings and early mornings at the castle and Hampstead is a long way to Apparate from Scotland when you’re tired.”  
  
Narcissa looked curiously at Hermione who answered, “I don’t live in Hampstead anymore. I’m in Seven Sisters for now but after December I think I’ll be in Enfield.”  
  
Smiling brightly, Narcissa agreed.  
  
They all began walking toward the cottage once more and Minerva asked, “Your parents? Are they still in Hampstead?”  
  
“No one told you?” Hermione asked, tightening her grip on Narcissa’s hand.  
  
Both women looked at Hermione curiously.  
  
“My parents are in Australia. Forever.”  
  
Narcissa remained quiet, hearing the emotion in Hermione’s voice.  
  
Minerva asked, “Australia? But, Hermione, your parents-”  
  
“Were my weakest point. The only way to keep them safe last year was to send them away. Unfortunately, the only way to get them to leave was to make them never want to return. So, that’s that.” She swallowed hard, appreciating Narcissa’s tight grip on her.  
  
“But your wedding? Surely, they’ll return for that,” Minerva continued.  
  
Wanting to protect Hermione from further conversation, Narcissa interjected, “Actually, we’re not really pushing for that right now. There are simply far too many Death Eaters still on the loose for Mr. and Mrs. Granger to come back right now. Even with Voldemort dead and gone, his supporters could be quite dangerously seeking payback against those they believe caused his downfall. And not many people did that more publicly than The Golden Trio. Bringing them back to London now could put them right back into danger.”  
  
“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry to hear that. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. You’re both still welcome to use the cottage during the year, of course,” Minerva said kindly as she held open the back door for them to enter.  
  
“Thank you, Headmistress,” Narcissa smiled, “Hermione’s just going to get her handbag now and I think we can go.”  
  
“There’s Floo powder in the box there on the mantel.”  
  
After Hermione came back out, face clear and bag in hand, she spoke, “Thank you, again, but we’ll just Apparate. The Floo at the Manor isn’t connected to the Network.”  
  
Minerva was, once more, surprised but she simply shrugged her shoulders and wished the women well reminding Hermione to watch for an owl with a schedule.  
  
The women bade farewell and went their separate ways.

“Oh! Mistresses, welcome home!” Pepper met Narcissa and Hermione at the door.  
  
“Good morning, Pepper,” Narcissa smiled, “I have a big job for you first thing this morning. Can you do it?”  
  
“Oh, yes, Pepper can do it,” the little elf said, nodding so hard her ears flopped around.  
  
“We have Draco, Dean, and Harry Potter coming for brunch in just about an hour. Can you prepare brunch for all five of us plus a little extra just in case someone else shows up?”  
  
“Yes, yes, yes. Brunch will be ready in an hour. Now, Mistress Black and Mistress Grainger go get ready,” Pepper gently pushed the women towards the stairs and skipped to the kitchen.  
  
Hermione had a small smile on her face, enjoying the antics of Dobby’s little sister.  
  
“Would you care to go upstairs with me and put away the items in that bag of yours?”  
  
“Sure,” Hermione agreed.  
  
Silently, but not uncomfortably, the couple made their way up to Narcissa’s rooms and began removing everything Hermione had packed the day before. After a few peaceful minutes, Narcissa, not looking at the other woman, asked quietly, “Hermione, are you going to tell me about your parents?” Hearing Hermione sniffle in response she turned only to see tears streaming down her fiancée’s face. “Oh, shhh, darling, shhh,” Narcissa wrapped Hermione up in her arms and held her tightly while the younger woman sobbed.  
  
“Narcissa, you’re never going to marry me after I tell you what happened. What I did to them.”  
  
“Thank you for believing I have morals and an upstanding code of ethics. We’ll work on you believing that I’m going to marry you later, just tell me what happened, darling.”  
  
“My parents were my weak spot. They were the easiest, biggest target to get to me. They were completely defenseless and had no idea what to watch out for. The Order didn’t protect them the way they protected Harry’s family or each other mainly because my parents are both muggles.”  
  
“What? I thought the Order were all about muggle protection and relations?”  
  
“They are...on the surface. But when it came down to it and there weren’t enough Order members to guard everyone, they had to choose. The muggle families lost every time. So, I did what I had to do.” Hermione looked both defiant and devastated.  
  
“What, Hermione? What did you have to do?”  
  
“I asked them to leave. I asked them to move. I explained everything about the war, the Death Eaters, that the Ministry was likely to fall soon. That I couldn’t stay because I was a target for multiple reasons. I begged them to go.”  
  
“They refused,” Narcissa sighed, hugging Hermione even more tightly, “of course, they refused. You’re their child. They would never willingly leave you on your own in a war.”  
  
“I made them go.”  
  
“Imperius? I doubt you could’ve done that.”  
  
“No. I, um, I obliviated their memories of me. Slowly, carefully, and completely I removed myself from their minds and their lives. Then I sent them a brochure from Australia that there was a city in desperate need of dentists that would pay them to relocate. They went. As Wendell and Monica Wilkins, a lovely professional couple with no children.”  
  
“Oh. My,” Narcissa put her hand up to her chest, as if holding her heart in place. “Hermione, that must’ve been so difficult for you.”  
  
Hermione just nodded, stepping away and wrapping her arms around herself.  
  
“We can try,” Narcissa said haltingly, “you know, to undo it. The memories aren’t erased completely. We can try to restore them.”  
  
“Oh, Cissa,” Hermione flopped bonelessly into an armchair by the fireplace in the bedroom. “I want to say yes but I’m so conflicted.”  
  
“I...immediately assume it’s because you don’t want them to know you’re engaged to me. I guess that’s rather unfair isn’t it?”  
  
Hermione looked scandalised, “Narcissa, that’s not it at all. You’re a brilliant, strong, loyal woman. I’m proud to marry you.”  
  
Biting her lip and trying not to cry, Narcissa sat in the chair next to Hermione’s, “then tell me why you’re conflicted. All the reasons. Just throw them at me.”  
  
Chuckling for a moment, Hermione shook her head and then began her list. “I want them to be at our wedding but I don’t want to put it off to reverse the Obliviation first because that could take so long. I want to go and do it soon but I actually think you were correct and they still wouldn’t be safe here but I don’t want to wait years until every Death Eater is captured before trying. I’m terrified of their reaction when they find out what I’ve done. I messed with their minds against their will and made them do something they explicitly told me they did not want to do; how could they ever trust me again? What if it doesn’t work? What if trying to undo the spell just damages them somehow? And why isn’t what I did to them completely illegal? How could the Killing Curse, Cruciatus, and Imperius be Unforgivable but not Obliviate? Ridiculous.”  
  
Narcissa took a deep breath before she tried to respond to any of Hermione’s concerns. Each aspect of the younger woman’s thought process needed to be taken seriously and given the attention it deserved. “I’m going out of order here, darling, okay?”  
  
Hermione nodded, staring intently at Narcissa’s eyes, trying to figure out if her fiancée was upset with her or not.  
  
“I agree, it probably should be illegal. Let’s both just be grateful it isn’t and perhaps include that on the list of things that needs to be revisited when the Ministry gets its act together. Next, I have a great many books on the subjects of Legilimency and Occlumency and both of those practices go hand-in-hand with Obliviate. I think we need to spend some time researching how the charm has been reversed in the past to make sure we follow a prescribed and safe method so as to not damage your parents.”  
  
“Yes, exactly,” Hermione agreed.  
  
“I’m not going to lie to you, Hermione. I’ll never lie to you. Trust between you and your parents will be hard won. When they realize what you’ve done they will be hurt and they will feel violated. You just have to commit to earning that trust back. Part of doing that will be admitting that you may have made a mistake.” Narcissa put a hand up to stop whatever Hermione was about to say. “I’m sure you still feel that you made the only decision you could have made at the time, however, perhaps through our own discussions we can come up with a different plan that might have worked. Just so they know, if anything were to ever happen again and they needed protection, you would have an alternate plan or two that did not involve erasing their memories and sending them off to a different continent.”  
  
Frowning, Hermione reluctantly agreed that Narcissa was right about that one.  
  
“I do think it will take some time to figure out how to safely and truly reverse what’s been done and I don’t know that we have that kind of time before December the twenty-first - and even if we did, I’m not sure it would be safe yet. I’m sorry, I don’t have a different solution to that other than to postpone our wedding. Which I will do if you want to wait until your parents can join us. Postponing would give us time to research a reversal and make sure Britain is safe before we marry.” Narcissa reached out as she spoke and entwined her fingers with Hermione’s, feeling surprisingly emotional.  
  
“No.”  
  
Swallowing carefully passed the lump in her throat, Narcissa asked what Hermione was negating.  
  
Hermione rose from her seat to settle sideways on Narcissa’s lap. The older woman’s arms wrapped around her waist immediately and Hermione framed Narcissa’s face with her hands.  
  
“No. I have no desire whatsoever to postpone our wedding. The Winter Solstice is perfect for us and that’s who our wedding is about...us.” Hermione leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Narcissa’s lips. “It would be lovely if my parents could be there but, unfortunately, they can’t. Honestly, for the past seven years my life has happened largely without my parents. It’s a sad, often overlooked, byproduct of being a muggle-born witch or wizard. We leave the world into which we were born and often lose those relationships or they become less important than our relationships in this world. Either way. No. Not postponing.”  
  
Narcissa pulled the younger woman back down for another kiss, a longer, more passionate meeting with lips and teeth and tongues clashing.  
  
They only separated because there was a knocking at the door. Hermione stood on shaky legs, followed by Narcissa, both breathing heavily.  
  
“Come in,” Narcissa called.  
  
Pepper popped inside, not opening the door. “Mistresses, Pepper will have brunch ready in a few more minutes. Draco and Dean and Harry Potter are in the sitting room, very tired.”  
  
“Thank you, Pepper. We’ll be right down,” Narcissa smiled.  
  
After the little elf left, Narcissa told Hermione she was going to fix her makeup and turned toward the washroom. She hadn’t even moved a step when she felt two strong arms wrap around her from behind.  
  
“Thank you, Narcissa Black.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Hermione Granger,” Narcissa answered, a besotted little smile on her face.

“Boys!” Narcissa let her voice ring out as she walked passed the sitting room toward the kitchen.  
  
“Ugh, Mother,” Draco groaned, “my head.”  
  
“How late did the party go last night?” Hermione asked Harry as he followed her.  
  
“Last night? I don’t think it wrapped up until early this morning. I also have a feeling a lot more weddings will be happening in the coming weeks.”  
  
“Ah,” Narcissa commented, “alliances forged on the dance floor. They don’t always hold up to the light of day but we shall see.”  
  
As they took their seats around the table, glasses of an unusual looking liquid appeared before the three gentlemen.  
  
“Pep? What’s this?” Draco asked.  
  
“Not from Pepper, Master Draco, from Filly,” the wizened old House Elf answered. “I knew your aunts when they were in school and this came in very handy for them on a lot of mornings.”  
  
“Do I want to know what’s in it?”  
  
Laughing, Narcissa answered for Filly, “You absolutely do not, Mister Potter. Just drink it all down in one go. It’s better than any Pepper Up Potion I’ve ever tried. Trust me.”  
  
Harry opened his eyes and looked right at Narcissa to answer, “I do.” He raised his glass to her and drank it down.  
  
She blinked rapidly and looked away, determined not to cry. Hermione reached under the table to pat her leg but was just a little too far away so she tried to slide her chair closer. It still didn’t work.  
  
“Okay,” the younger witch stated, “for future reference, I don’t like it when you sit at the head of the table.”  
  
The room fell completely silent and all eyes were on Hermione.  
  
“Uh, I mean, it is her Manor, Hermione,” Harry said, sounding as awkward as everyone felt.  
  
“What?” Hermione questioned, looking around, seeing everyone’s incredulous stares. “Um... what just...oh. Oh! No! I didn’t mean it in an I-want-to-be-the-boss way, I literally just don’t like when she’s sitting there because it’s too hard to reach her leg under the table and I wanted to just rest my hand there and this is not sounding any better I’m going to just shut up now.” Hermione dropped her head onto her folded arms on the table.  
  
Hermione heard, faintly through the sound of the boys’ laughter, a chair leg scraping the floor. A moment later she felt a hand on her back and Narcissa said into her ear, “Slide over, darling, so I can pull my chair in here instead.”  
  
Hermione sat up and moved her chair over, mildly embarrassed at her outburst but deeply appreciating Narcissa’s support. Before she looked at anyone else, she leaned over and kissed Narcissa, thanking her for her thoughtfulness.  
  
“They’re the worst. I’m telling you, Dean, you’re going to get a cavity just sitting at a table with these two,” Draco teased.  
  
“Oh, hush up and drink your brew,” Narcissa smiled.  
  
After a few quiet minutes, Harry was the first to admit he felt better.  
  
“Actually, I really do,” Dean agreed, “even my headache is gone.”  
  
“Then enjoy your brunch and call if you need anything,” Filly said, snapping his fingers.  
  
Food appeared on the table and the House Elves left the room.  
  
With everyone’s plates filled, Hermione started the conversation, “So, where is everyone on the Decree rebellion?”  
  
“Well, a few people last night made the decision to get married shortly. They won’t be asking permission or announcing it. Some of those are couples who might truly have wedded one another anyway, like Neville and Hannah.”  
  
“Hannah Abbott?” Narcissa asked.  
  
“Yes, the two of them were friends at school.”  
  
Narcissa summoned her papers from upstairs and rose quickly to get a quill and ink from the owl room.  
  
“I think I’ll just start a separate section for couples who choose for themselves. What do you think, dear?”  
  
Hermione, looking over Narcissa’s work for the first time, agreed.  
  
“Hmm. Longbottom and Abbott choosing one another, they’re both families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. That doesn’t really help us unless they do seek and are granted Ministry permission. Then still it doesn’t prove anything, it just continues the circumstantial evidence. Do you agree?” Narcissa turned to Hermione for an answer.  
  
“I do agree but I’m afraid to get involved with them and appear too controlling or pushy. Who are some of the other couples?”  
  
“Blaise and Seamus, but they’ll be having an identical ceremony to ours. We’ve given them our script,” Dean said.  
  
“Luna and Cho will be marrying under some Pagan ritual of Luna’s. Merlin knows if it’ll hold up to Ministry scrutiny.”  
  
“Goyle and Padma Patil. That one was interesting,” Dean laughed a bit.  
  
“Parvati is not marrying anyone. Nor am I,” Harry added quietly.  
  
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.  
  
“There are a few of us who are simply not going to do it. Mandy Brocklehurst is also not marrying anyone. Neither is Astoria Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass, however, will by marrying Torben Rowle as they are already dating.”  
  
Narcissa carefully set her quill down, and looked at Harry. “Are you sure about this? We don’t know what the Ministry will do to you if you refuse to follow the Decree.”  
  
“That’s why I have to do it,” Harry answered, determination making his voice strong. “What would they do to me? The boy who lived? Without my being willing to die for all of us, and your being willing to lie about it, by the way, a great many more witches and wizards would have been killed by Death Eaters. Our whole world would be a different, terrible place. So, what are they going to do to me? Throw me into Azkaban? Kick me out of an Auror program I’m not qualified to be in? Publicly shame me? They’ve done that one already, I doubt the public will buy into it again. Parvati, Astoria, Mandy, Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Marcus Flint, Terrence Higgs, Roger Davies, Andromeda, McGonagall, those people need me to stand against the Ministry, too.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Hermione apologized. She had acted rashly and gotten into an engagement with Narcissa and now Harry was on his own against the Ministry once more.  
  
“Hermione, you don’t-” Narcissa started but was interrupted by Hermione herself.  
  
“No, Narcissa. I’m not ending our engagement. We are getting married in December. I’m just sorry that I can’t stand with him in his refusal.”  
  
“If you’re sure,” Narcissa said, unsure of herself, looking anywhere but at Hermione.  
  
For her part, Hermione reached up and gently held Narcissa’s pale cheek, turning the other woman’s face toward her own. “I’m completely sure. Please stop offering me a way out. I don’t want one. I just want to marry you. I wish tomorrow was the twenty-first of December.”  
  
“We don’t all have to fight the same way. Remember? Different sparks. You refused to marry Ron and Lucius and are marrying one another, that itself was a rebellion,” Harry reminded the women.  
  
“And if you don’t have children within the next year, that, too, will be a rebellion,” Draco offered.  
  
“And our ceremony last night without Ministry permission was also a rebellion,” Dean agreed.  
  
“Honestly,” Harry shrugged, “I think your Engagement Announcement was a brilliant bit of anti-Decree propaganda. It was all about how being together was your own choice. It was worded in such a way that people who blindly follow the Ministry won’t realize what they’re reading but anyone bothered by the overreach will see the spark you put there.”  
  
“Let’s hope,” Narcissa said.  
  
“Truly, I’m more concerned about the baby making part,” Draco said, refilling his mimosa. “What will they do if we don’t all start popping our little witches and wizards?”  
  
“And, actually,” Hermione said, finger in the air, “what will they do if we do? There’s no way wizarding Britain has the resources to manage a forced baby boom the likes of which they’re trying to create. It’s irresponsible. If they want to increase our population, they need to make the people feel safe, well-educated, healthy, and financially sound. These are proven facts.”  
  
Draco raised his glass to Hermione but Harry wasn’t so confident in her response. “Well, you two are getting married in December. Are you going to have a baby a year from now?”  
  
Hermione glanced sideways at Narcissa who was looking down at her plate. Biting her lip, she contemplated the answer, “That’s a conversation we still have to have with one another. However, I will say, I’m planning to take eight NEWTs this year and then pursue two multi-level Apprenticeships. I feel it would be the height of a disrespectful and irresponsible spouse were I to be out busy with that all the time and expect Narcissa to be home, pregnant and alone. I don’t doubt her capability. It’s just not how I want our family to grow. It's an experience we should both be fully participating in."  
  
“And I, for one, would not expect Hermione to try to complete all of that schooling and those Apprenticeships while pregnant. It would be physically exhausting and unhealthy for both her and the fetus.”  
  
They were met with silence.  
  
“I can not imagine two people better suited to one another than the two of you,” Dean said.  
  
“And I will shout that from the rooftops,” Draco agreed.  
  
“And at the Weasleys,” Harry finished.


	13. Rebellion on Hold

“So, shall we meet again Wednesday evening for dinner?”  
  
“Yes, let’s. We can keep each other up-to-date on any information we gather,” Harry agreed, not seeing the look shared between Dean and Draco.  
  
They all started cleaning up the table from their brunch and moving plates to the sink before Filly and Pepper could come in and stop them.  
  
“Just curious, has anyone checked the papers today?” Draco asked.  
  
As it turned out, no one had. Hermione offered to collect them. Narcissa summoned the papers and pointed Hermione toward the owl room where she asked her to send Paionia off with a sickle to get them a copy of the new Witch Weekly.  
  
“A sickle? Surely it’s less than that,” Hermione answered.  
  
“I absolutely agree, however, I have a very strong feeling that this week’s release is going to be a Special Issue relating mostly to the Decree. It also behooves us to send more money than it’s worth and tip the paper cart so they treat Paionia well when she stops by.”  
  
Hermione’s eyebrows went up as she nodded in agreement.  
  
“Here you go, Draco,” Narcissa handed him the rolled copy of the Daily Prophet, allowing him to look at it with Dean first.  
  
“Ha!” Draco burst out, laughing incredulously. “I think we’ll be okay, Dean. Thank you ever so much, Mother.”  
  
Harry, curious, came up behind the other two young men and looked over their shoulders at the front page of the paper. Just then, Hermione came back into the kitchen and Harry spoke, “Well, well, well, ladies, two days in a row. Any plans for tonight? Going for three?” He, too, chuckled.  
  
Hermione furrowed her brow and looked at Narcissa, who was also confused.  
  
Draco dropped the paper onto the table between where the two women stood so they both stepped forward together to look.  
  
“Oh, my,” Hermione said, shaking her head.  
  
“We weren’t even doing anything,” Narcissa defended.  
  
“I knew this would be the picture that was used if Skeeter had any say about it. You look absolutely gorgeous here, Narcissa. Rita could hardly keep her eyes off you.”  
  
“When was that?” Harry asked.  
  
“Oh, before the ceremony. Hermione and I had just arrived and spoken with Draco. As we were about to head into the courtyard, we realized Rita Skeeter was taking photographs of us. When we asked what she wanted she tried to pick a fight with Hermione and, when that didn’t work, she accused her of sedition. This photo in the paper was taken as we were walking away from that conversation.”  
  
“What does the article say?” Harry was curious how Rita was spinning this to criticize Hermione.  
  
Hermione picked up the paper to read it aloud, “Bustling with activity, Saturday afternoon in Diagon Alley was sunny, warm, and pleasant. Most people had no idea the place was rife with sedition and young people plotting the overthrow of our very own Ministry of Magic. This reporter, of course, knows the signs. When Harry Potter, boy wonder of Gryffindor House, is seen dining with Gregory Goyle, sidekick to Potter’s own schoolyard enemy, it should draw concern. Having much experience in the techniques required to track a developing story, this reporter sussed out that one would need to be in Hogsmeade at dusk for further information. When I arrived in Hogsmeade, I was immediately confronted with hostility, a sure sign that there was something to hide. The brain behind the so-called Golden Trio was standing in the middle of a Hogsmeade sidewalk, sharing an uncomfortable and awkward public display of affection with none other than Narcissa Malfoy (née Black). Though the ‘couple’ announced their ‘engagement’ in The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler on Saturday morning, it is clear to any reasonable onlooker that any relationship between the two mismatched witches is fake, forced, and serving nefarious purposes. When the witches were approached with a request for a friendly conversation, they reacted quite poorly. Miss Granger accused me of stalking her! Lady Malfoy resorted to childish name calling and further intimated I had no value as a human. The confrontation ended with the two witches stealing my wand, destroying my belongings, and laughing as they walked away, leaving me unprotected in the middle of Hogsmeade. All this while Lady Malfoy’s own child was participating in some sort of private rite in a warded tent with a large number of onlookers made up of peers and professors from Hogwarts School. The accompanying photograph was taken as the witches walked away and into the seditious ceremony. The crowd that entered, as witnessed by yours truly, was made up of other malcontents such as Blaise Zabini (child of suspected Death Eaters), Rubeus Hagrid (half-giant and former Azkaban inmate), Gregory Goyle (child of Death Eaters), Pansy Parkinson (child of Death Eaters), Seamus Finnigan (blew up the Hogwarts bridge), Minerva McGonagall in official looking robes, and more. Suspiciously missing from the Hogwarts reunion was Ronald Weasley and family, known supporters of the rule of law and the Ministry. One does wonder what ceremony could have centered around Draco Malfoy with all of those observers. Fear not, dear readers, me, myself, and I will get to the bottom of this.”  
  
Hermione’s voice trembled as she finished reading, she was fighting back tears of fury and embarrassment. She expected harsh words from Rita, perhaps another article attacking her but not to the extent she had just read. Further, she was devastated to have brought the reporter’s wrath down on her fiancée. No one moved nor made a sound for a long, long few minutes.  
  
“Well, she did get some things right. Even though she twists them all up, she’s not completely wrong,” Narcissa said calmly, “I mean, she was completely wrong about a few things, just not everything.”  
  
“Mother, please, name one thing she was right about,” Draco rolled his eyes, trying to find a way to keep Hermione from crying, the young woman looked like she’d just been punched in the gut.  
  
“We did announce our engagement in the Prophet and the Quibbler yesterday,” she smiled, rubbing her hand up and down Hemione’s back.  
  
“Narcissa,” Hermione choked out, “she put ‘couple’ and ‘engagement’ in quotes. Like they’re not real. Like we,” Hermione pointed back and forth between the two of them, “are not real.”  
  
“Okay then,” Narcissa continued, “I did call her names, worthless hag to be precise, and I said she had no value and I destroyed her property and we threw her wand across Hogsmeade and I laughed as we walked away from her. All of that is true. And all of those guests were there and the things she said about them were true. And there was a private ceremony in a warded tent officiated by Minerva McGonagall.”  
  
“She was wrong about a lot, too, though,” Dean said calmly.  
  
“I wasn’t,” Hermione tried not to cry, “I wasn’t really hostile when we first talked to her. And we weren’t faking anything, Narcissa. We aren’t uncomfortable or awkward together, are we? We don’t belong in quotes,” tears were streaming down Hermione’s cheeks and she could no longer stop them, her breath coming in gasping hiccoughs as she tried to control herself.  
  
Narcissa wrapped Hermione up in her arms, squeezing her tightly. She had one arm around Hermione’s waist and the other hand holding the back of Hermione’s neck, trying to convey through touch how much she cared about the young woman. “Hermione,” she whispered, crying herself at the emotion before her, “Hermione, listen to me, we aren’t uncomfortable together. We aren’t awkward together. We aren’t faking anything. We don’t belong in quotes. We’re just a couple, getting married in three months, two weeks, and one day...but who’s counting.”  
  
“We are,” Hermione whispered back. “I think maybe that’s been building since we ran into her yesterday.”  
  
“Completely understandable.”  
  
The women, still holding on to one another tightly, heard Paionia’s bell ring in the other room. “I’ll go,” offered Hermione, “she’s probably back with Witch Weekly.”  
  
Narcissa took a moment to subtly wipe the tears tracks from her face before turning back to the gentlemen. “I apologize for my emotional display. I simply can not bear to see Hermione cry,” she confessed.  
  
“And that is the biggest thing Skeeter was wrong about,” Harry said, “and it ought to be addressed. You two are one of the most natural couples I’ve ever seen, muggle or magical, and you don’t deserve the way she wrote about you.”  
  
“Good grief,” Hermione exclaimed as she re-entered the dining area.  
  
“What is it?” Narcissa was nervous.  
  
“We’ve made the cover of Witch Weekly!” Hermione held it up for the others to see, on the cover was the photo montage from their Engagement Announcement with just one phrase underneath. “Just under the photos it says ‘the couple both feel a deep certainty in their souls that their match is just right’ and then it has what page you can find the apparent article on us in the new Special Section of Witch Weekly where they will be housing all things wedding related.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin’s pants, this is getting out of hand,” Narcissa muttered.  
  
Hermione handed the magazine over and told Narcissa it was her turn to read.  
  
“Yes, fine, give it here. Let’s see, page RD1 - oh the front page of the wedding section, fancy.”  
  
“Stop stalling, Mother, and read your article,” Draco teased.  
  
“Winter Wedding for Bewitching Witches. Yesterday’s newspapers delivered an exciting announcement, the upcoming nuptials between Golden Girl Hermione Granger and her own lovely lady, Narcissa Black. I was lucky enough to have an opportunity to sit down with the two of them last night at another exciting affair and share a few words about their Announcement, their request to the Ministry to be allowed to wed, and their evening. After watching Miss Black and Miss Granger dance the night away, everyone could tell they were a couple completely absorbed in one another. When I asked them if they had kept anything from their Announcement or if there was anything else they would be willing to share, the couple agreed with one another that they had been forthright in what was printed in the paper. I reviewed their Engagement Announcement (p1) one last time and they were quite honest about one another. Don’t we all look for a relationship in which our partner has a deep certainty in his or her soul that we are the very best person to be with? Such a deep connection between the two witches was beautiful to behold. As our friendly conversation continued, I noticed that the two of them naturally gravitated toward one another, seemingly without even realizing it. They constantly demonstrated an emotional connection that some couples take years to master and had an innate sense of when the other would benefit from physical support - a hand on her back, an arm around her waist. When asked if they knew of any other upcoming weddings, neither witch could comment on anything other than their own on the twenty-first of December, the Winter Solstice. They did both remind me, however, that they had to ask the Ministry for permission to marry one another because, even though they’re together, the Ministry assigned them to different partners. There has been some speculation that we will see more witches and wizards marry without permission or assignment because they already know with whom they wish to spend their lives and they neither want nor feel they need Ministry permission to make that decision. It was an appropriate line of conversation considering we were at the unassigned wedding of Draco Malfoy and Dean Thomas. I was not invited in to witness the ceremony itself but I was invited to join the reception. The grooms danced together for much of the night, as did many of their guests. Looking out over the crowd, I saw very few assigned couples in attendance together. I did not, in fact, see Margaret Runcorn anywhere and she was the partner to whom Draco Malfoy was assigned. I did see Mandy Brocklehurst, Dean Thomas’ assigned partner and she seemed to be having a wonderful time with many of their school friends. She also looked completely unconcerned that her assigned spouse had just married someone else. Also in attendance was none other than The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter himself. He did not spend much time on the dance floor and, when he did, he danced with Luna Lovegood. I did not broach the topic of children with Miss Granger and Miss Black...saved that for the next meeting. And I do so hope to have another. I felt happier just spending time in the circle of joy those two created with each other. In case we don’t have the opportunity to speak again before your wedding, Hermione and Narcissa, I wish you an abundance of happiness with one another.”  
  
Draco clapped his hands slowly, “And there you have it. Exactly what we were hoping for from last night.”  
  
“How did that even happen? That’s like, literally, exactly what we wanted,” Hermione was astounded.  
  
“You two are a force,” Harry laughed. “Your little barside chat with Adeline Adore must have gone perfectly.”  
  
“It did go well, I guess,” Hermione agreed, looking down, trying to remember more of it.  
  
“It did,” Narcissa smirked, nodding. “We were both tired and a little tipsy, I don’t think our conversation was quite so...verbose. I wonder if Miss Adore is angling for more interviews in the future.”  
  
“If this is what she does with a few quick words, I would be inclined to grant her an interview anytime she asks,” Harry laughed.  
  
Narcissa had to agree.  
  
Draco had picked the Prophet back up off the table and was flipping through to look for any more information about the Decree. “Here we are, Trecus’ latest article. Huh,” Draco looked up at his mother and shook his head slightly, “interesting. It’s not much of an article today. It’s more of a list. Have a look.” He dropped the open paper back onto the table so everyone could see.  
  
“Interesting is right,” Dean agreed. “So, we’re marked as complete now? I guess that’s good. It worked.”  
  
“Sure did,” Draco tipped his head at his new, faux husband.  
  
“And we’re listed as confirmed. Harry and Padma are listed as assigned.”  
  
“Anyone new?”  
  
“Oh, uh,” Hermione read the list again, “I’m actually not sure. Here, Cissy, let’s compare it to your notes later.”  
  
Narcissa nodded and took that section of the paper and placed it with the parchment containing her research.  
  
“Any plans for the day, gentlemen?”  
  
Harry shook his head and was about to speak when he realized Draco and Dean were trying - very hard - to communicate silently with one another...it didn’t look like they were very successful. Finally, Draco rolled his eyes and spoke up.  
  
“Actually, Mother, Dean and I are going to head away for a few weeks.”  
  
“Oh?” Narcissa stopped moving.  
  
“That makes sense,” Hermione chimed in, “I mean, if people think you got married yesterday, you should go on a honeymoon. Where will you be?”  
  
“We’re going to start with a visit to Paris then travel to a few different areas in France ending on the French Riviera.”  
  
“Oooh, Dean, let me know all about it! That sounds like a beautiful place to honeymoon,” Hermione said excitedly, reaching for Narcissa’s hand and hugging the other woman’s arm tightly to her chest.  
  
“Mmm,” Narcissa hummed as she pressed a kiss to Hermione’s head, “I think maybe that’s the list we should be working on today.”  
  
Harry smiled at the look of happiness on Hermione’s face.  
  
“You two off soon, then?” Harry asked.  
  
“Yeah, mate, we’re all packed,” Dean said, grinning.  
  
“A word of advice, if I may?”  
  
Draco looked at Narcissa and nodded.  
  
“Even though it feels like you’re so far from here, our magical communities are quite intertwined. Anything you do in France will be reported here within a day. Please, please boys be smart and be safe. The last thing you want is to get tripped up by a foolish, drunken mistake on the Riviera.”  
  
Draco stepped around the table and stood in front of his mother. Hermione stepped away to let them have a moment together. Narcissa reached out and grasped Draco’s hands, her eyes welling up with tears once more. “Mum, thank you for worrying about us. We will absolutely be careful. We aren’t going there to get drunk and pick up girls. We’re honestly going to some of the most magical locations in France’s history because they’re interesting and we’re going to wrap it up with a few days of lounging beachside and hanging out. I promise.”  
  
“Thank you, my boy,” Narcissa placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s forehead and, when she released him, did the same to Dean.  
  
“Have fun, see you in a few weeks,” Hermione said, hugging them each in turn.  
  
Filly and Pepper came back into the kitchen and Filly let Draco know that their bags were already in Maison de Black in Paris.  
  
“Alright! Then we’re off! We’re actually going to take the boat from Brighton just like you two did the other day. Sounded like a really lovely afternoon,” Draco said, hooking his arm through Dean’s.  
  
“Have a blast,” Harry smiled.  
  
And just like that, they were gone.

“Well, that kind of slows down our ability to network the resistance,” Harry chuckled.  
  
“I have to agree with you on that, Mister Potter. Though it was a good plan for them to take a honeymoon.”  
  
“Well, we can still track the couples being named by the Ministry and keep on top of that aspect of things. I wonder if maybe we should also send an owl to Miss Adore thanking her for her kind words?”  
  
Narcissa looked at Hermione sharply, “Actually, that’s a great idea, Hermione. Stay on her good side.”  
  
“Would you do it, Narcissa? Your handwriting is so beautiful.”  
  
Narcissa rolled her eyes dramatically and laughed as she left the room to write out the message.  
  
“Cissa! We’re going to the sitting room to get more comfortable!”  
  
“Wait just a second, Hermione, you have a few letters here and Harry has one, as well! And I’d like you to come in here for them!”  
  
Hermione and Harry looked at one another with furrowed brows but quickly followed Narcissa into the owl room.  
  
“Oh, no,” Hermione said, seeing the Howler sitting on the ledge outside the window. “Narcissa, last time Rita started writing nasty articles about me I got loads of hate mail every day and a bunch of them were Howlers. Please, I can’t go through that again.”  
  
“For today, we can put a basket outside the window to collect all of the current post that comes in. Tomorrow morning, when the Owl Post Office opens, we’ll go and get ourselves a post box. Then all letters being sent from owls other than our own will be delivered to the post box instead of directly to us.”  
  
Hermione’s jaw dropped open. “What? You mean to tell me I suffered through months of hate mail, filled with the most abusive, vile messages I’ve ever read, for no reason? All I needed to do was get a post box? Why? Why wouldn’t a professor have told me that? Why would they let that continue? Do you know how-” but Hermione was interrupted before she could finish her sentence.  
  
The Howler could wait no longer. It opened its mouth and shouted, “Miss Granger! I have tried repeatedly to get you to come over to The Burrow for dinner! We have a wedding to plan! I expect to see you at two o’clock today. On the dot! You are marrying my son, regardless of whatever rubbish you’re working so hard to get printed in the newspapers! Two o’clock! Do not be late! Mrs. Weasley.”  
  
The three of them just looked at one another.  
  
“Well, I never,” Narcissa finally said, appalled. “Who would be so demanding of another’s time? Does she think she owns you?”  
  
Hermione couldn’t even respond, she just shook her head, her mouth opening and closing without producing any sound.  
  
“Somehow, I don’t think a simply unavailable is going to work this time,” Harry said quietly. “Maybe I should’ve let you send your rant the other day. I’m sorry, Hermione.”  
  
“What is this?”  
  
“Mrs. Weasley sent a letter the other day, Wednesday I think, telling me to come over for supper and that she had questions for me regarding my ‘mealtime assignation’ the previous day. I had initially written a scathing response but, before I could send it, Harry suggested I cool off a bit. So, I simply sent one word, unavailable, and signed it H. Granger.”  
  
“I think that was a better plan. Who knew she would continue to be so difficult?”  
  
“Thank you,” Harry said, posture relaxing.  
  
Narcissa transfigured a decorative little bowl she had sitting on the desk into a basket and placed it on the ledge outside the window.  
  
“There, now the post will go in the basket and we need only check when we wish. Come, let’s go relax in the sitting room. Do you want your other post now?”  
  
“I guess so,” Hermione said, her voice laced with stress.  
  
“I’ll take mine, as well,” Harry answered, “I think it’s from Mrs. Weasley, also.”  
  
The trio made their way into the sitting room, post in hand for each of them. As they made themselves comfortable, each of them started reading.  
  
After a few moments, Harry let out a groan of irritation.  
  
“What is it, Harry?”  
  
“I’m just disappointed. I’ve always loved Mrs. Weasley, she treated me like another son but she was never as kind to you, Hermione, as she was to me and I wish I’d taken that more to heart when we were younger. Turns out she’s a raging hypocrite.” Harry handed his letter off to Hermione to share with Narcissa.  
  
“So, it’s okay for you to defy the Ministry and wait to marry Ginny but I can’t? It’s okay for Padma to without her assigned partner but not Ron?”  
  
“Darling,” Narcissa said, her voice syrupy sweet, “I’d like you to accept your invitation from Molly Weasley.”  
  
Hermione looked at Narcissa with wide eyes.  
  
“And Harry and I would love to join you all this afternoon,” she continued.  
  
“Yes. We would.” Harry said, determination lacing his tone.  
  
“Are you sure? She’s going to say horrid things to us both, I’m sure,” Hermione said nervously.  
  
“I’m sure she is, as well, which is why I think we should both go. Be prepared, though, that even though other people who have seen us together comment about how good we are for one another, Mrs. Weasley will never feel that way. I would hazard a guess that even after we are married she will still continue to pretend we aren’t together. Her opinion, of course, has no bearing on us, dear. I have dealt with much, much worse than Molly Weasley’s insults and so have you. Hermione, you aren’t just the brightest witch of the age, you’re also one of the most resilient women I’ve ever known. You were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange and came out stronger, braver, and more determined than ever. You can face Molly Weasley.”  
  
Hermione, a look of wonder upon her face, hugged Narcissa tightly, unable to speak around the lump that had formed in her throat.  
  
Settling back into the loveseat beside one another, Narcissa turned her attention to Harry. “You, however, are going to have to be a bit more vocal with her than you’d like, Harry.”  
  
He sighed and nodded, “I know you’re right. I just feel guilty about it.”  
  
“It’s crucial for more than one reason. Most importantly to me, it’ll help Hermione if you remind Molly that you’re choosing to defy the Ministry and do what’s right for your relationship with Ginny. Second, it helps us convince more people to defy the Ministry if you convince Molly and Arthur. Ask them if they’re hoping for more boys or another girl with their first pregnancy. If they don’t plan on having three more children then they, too, are defying the Decree.”  
  
“Brilliant,” Harry smirked.  
  
Narcissa nodded once, sharply, and went back to opening her own post. “Oh! Andromeda says our Announcement yesterday was beautiful and that we’re both quite welcome. She also invited us for tea tomorrow.”  
  
Hermione blushed and leaned into Narcissa to read the letter in her hand. “Tea with Andy and Teddy tomorrow would be lovely,” she said quietly. “You know, Narcissa, we still haven’t chosen a location and we have to owl that back to Madame du Beaumont today.”  
  
Narcissa dropped her post on the decorative table next her and turned to Hermione, “I have a thought on that.” Hermione nodded, a small smile gracing her features. “Have you ever heard of Achnagairn Castle? It’s in Scotland.”  
  
“I haven’t, no,” Hermione shook her head.  
  
“I have,” Harry said quietly. “Some celebrity got married there a few years ago. I heard it on the muggle news.”  
  
“It’s stunning,” Narcissa said. “And the best part is that it’s actually owned by a magical couple so we would be able to rent out the whole castle and grounds and they would hire a magical catering company and waitstaff and everything so we wouldn’t have to worry about the Statute of Secrecy or anything.”  
  
“We have about an hour before we need to be at the Burrow. Can we pop up to Scotland to see it?”  
  
“Absolutely, I can Apparate just outside the grounds and we can talk to Amalia and Samuel. Harry, you’re welcome to join us,” Narcissa offered.  
  
“Yes, Harry, please come! Then we can all go to Ottery St. Catchpole together.”  
  
“I hate Apparating,” Harry chuckled, “but I’d be happy to go with you.”  
  
“Great! I’m going to quickly send a note with Ulysses that we’ll be at the Burrow at two and then we can go!” Hermione said, smiling.  
  
As Hermione left the room, Harry watched Narcissa watching Hermione. “You care for her so deeply, so fast.”  
  
“I truly do. It’s a little mind boggling sometimes but she’s just so...real. She’s honest and forthright and bloody brilliant. She’s so loyal and so trusting. I’m surprised myself at how quickly this has all become so serious but I honestly wouldn’t change it for anything now.”  
  
Harry was quite pleased to hear such a strong statement from Narcissa about Hermione. It made him worry less for his best friend’s heart.  
  
“Okay! Let’s go! Oh, and Harry, don’t worry. Narcissa Apparates differently than we learned and you hardly even notice it.”  
  
“Really? I’m not going to feel like I’m getting sucked through a straw?”  
  
“Really,” Hermione grinned, lacing her fingers through Narcissa’s as they made their way down the front path. “And she’s going to teach me how to do it, too.”  
  
“Good, then you can teach me,” Harry teased.

“Oh. My. Heavens.”  
  
“I know, it’s gorgeous. Let’s walk around to the front gate, security can ring Amalia and Sam.”  
  
As Harry followed the two witches around the beautiful grounds of Achnagairn Castle he understood why Narcissa would want to marry Hermione here. The grounds were expansive and stunning, filled with incredible greenery and surrounded by stately old trees. The castle wasn’t really a castle per se, more of a grand, luxury estate but it would hold the hundreds of people the couple would be inviting for the ceremony and reception.  
  
“Um, Narcissa?” Hermione said, very quietly as they walked.  
  
“Mmhmm?”  
  
“Where...um, where did you and Lucius...have your wedding ceremony?”  
  
Narcissa stopped walking immediately and turned Hermione so they were face to face. She reached up and cupped Hermione’s cheeks. “Outside at Malfoy Manor. I hardly knew anyone present at the time and put absolutely no opinion or effort into the planning. This is completely different.” Narcissa leaned down and kissed Hermione.  
  
“Sorry,” Hermione said, cheeks pink, “thanks for understanding.”  
  
“No sorries, Hermione. None at all. They’re not needed.” Narcissa started walking again, her arm wrapped around Hermione’s shoulder and Hermione’s arm around her waist.  
  
As the trio approached the security gate, an elderly couple stepped through and met them.  
  
“Narcissa Malfoy? Is that you?”  
  
“Oh, Amalia, it’s been too long,” Narcissa stepped forward and hugged the other woman carefully, “so long, in fact, that I haven’t even told you all the good news!”  
  
“Well, tell us now! And then tell us why you surprised us with a visit instead of coming to stay for a week this past summer! We missed you and Draco,” the older man, Samuel it seemed, laughed and took his turn hugging Narcissa.  
  
“The first bit of good news is that my marriage to Lucius has been dissolved.”  
  
“Oh! That IS good news! Thank the stars!” Amalia clapped her hands and then turned to lead the group onto the Achnagairn grounds.  
  
“But the better news - the best news, in fact - is that I’m getting married again. This time to a wonderful, beautiful, smart, capable, kind witch.”  
  
“You, I presume?” Samuel reached out a hand to Hermione.  
  
She nodded, a little flushed at all of Narcissa’s compliments. “Yes, I’m Hermione Granger and I’m the lucky witch who gets to marry Narcissa on December the twenty-first.”  
  
“If you marry this girl anywhere other than our castle there will be hell to pay, young lady,” Amalia teased Narcissa.  
  
Hermione and Narcissa smiled brightly at one another and met for a kiss.  
  
“That’s exactly what they wanted to hear,” Harry laughed and introduced himself.  
  
“I knew I recognized Hermione’s name; you two are a big part of the reason Voldemort and his followers were caught, right? You’re the boy who lived, aren’t you,” Amalia questioned.  
  
“I am. But we would never have been able to do what we did without Narcissa’s bravery. She saved Hermione’s life and then my own at great risk to herself. She showed incredible courage.”  
  
“She has always been pretty spectacular. Narcissa and our daughter, Elizabeth, were great friends at school and she’s had a place in our family ever since.”  
  
Narcissa blushed and smiled, looking down for a moment. “You’re sure you’re available for a wedding on the solstice? We’re planning to invite a few hundred people.”  
  
“We’re sure,” Samuel grinned. “The solstice is on a Monday, so there aren’t any muggle conflicts and we’re not going to be allowing any Decree formed partnerships to wed on the grounds here. You know there’s something different in the air at Achnagairn, we don’t want the government using that to pad their wedding statistics.”  
  
Harry and Hermione’s eyes met, maybe the Rebellion wasn’t as on hold as they thought...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the terrible stopping point! I'll have another chapter out within 48 hours that has the conflict we've been waiting for (and a really emotional moment for our lovely leading ladies)


	14. Conflict and Resolution

“We’ll be back here on the third of October to meet with the caterers. Anything else we need to do?”  
  
Samuel chuckled, “Yes, Narcissa. Everything else. You need an Officiant, a wedding party, invitations, robes, music, flowers, a guest list, a registry, rings, a photographer, hair and makeup, a honeymoon, and a cake.”  
  
Hermione squeezed the hand in hers as her face blanched.  
  
Narcissa squeezed back and took a deep breath. “Oh. My. I’ve never done this before and was, perhaps, a bit unprepared for all of that. Uh, are you able to help with any of those, um, requirements?”  
  
Amalia smiled kindly, knowing Narcissa’s first wedding had been vastly different for her. “Yes, mo phàiste, we can. We can book a band or a dj for you, just tell us which you prefer. We can hire a florist if you tell us your flower preferences and color choices. We can hire a photographer easily and book a hairstylist and makeup artist to be here that day and to meet you a few weeks prior for practice round. We can also book a few bakers to come in on the third with cake samples for you to choose from if you’d like. I’m afraid you’re on your own with the rest of it but I can give you recommendations for where to go for them all.”  
  
Narcissa stepped forward to hug Amalia, thanking the woman graciously.  
  
“We would absolutely appreciate it if you could hire all the people you’ve just mentioned. I’m not quite sure yet if we’d prefer a band or dj nor have we decided our colors but we can owl that information to you soon?”  
  
Hermione nodded in agreement.  
  
“That would be fine, owl us whenever you decide. They’re not likely to be booked on a Monday night.”  
  
“We do have someone printing our invitations already,” Hermione spoke up, “Le Stylo est Plu Puissant in Paris? She’s agreed to print for us.”  
  
“Fancy,” Amalia teased, grinning.  
  
“And we don’t really need a registry,” Narcissa said. “We aren’t exactly both just starting out in the world. It would feel disingenuous for me to ask people to give us gifts from a registry. Perhaps we should ask for a donation to something in lieu of gifts?”  
  
Samuel hummed happily, “Always a good idea. Very respectable.”  
  
“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, “I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s closing in on two o’clock, we really should be going.”  
  
“Oh, drat,” Amalia said, “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to pop into the office for a list for you. Ten seconds and then you’re off!” She popped out of sight and was back in less than ten seconds holding a piece of paper she quickly handed off to Narcissa. “It’s a wedding checklist. I think this is the one we usually give to muggle brides but it’s nearly the same, just a few different words. Now off you go to your two o’clock and we’ll see you in a few weeks!”  
  
Handshakes and hugs for everyone and the trio made their way back to the hidden spot they’d entered nearly an hour earlier.  
  
“I’ve no problem Apparating, just tell me where we’re going again?”  
  
“Have you ever been to Ottery St. Catchpole?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Not that I can recall. Are there any other magical families who live nearby with whom I might’ve visited?”  
  
“Uh, the Lovegoods, the Diggorys, and the Fawcetts?”  
  
“Oh, yes, yes, yes, I know the Fawcetts. Their daughter Selah was at Hogwarts with Draco, in Ravenclaw I believe. Okay, let’s go.”  
  
Moments later, the three appeared on a path in front of a lovely stone house with blue shutters.  
  
“The Burrow is just through that copse of trees,” Harry pointed and began walking.  
  
They remained silent until the Weasley’s back garden came into view and Hermione spoke up, “Narcissa?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“I’m very nervous,” she said in a small voice.  
  
Harry felt so guilty that he hadn’t found a way to protect Hermione from Ron and his family, he didn’t know what to say so he just listened to the women behind him speak.  
  
“Let’s talk through it before we get there, Hermione. What, specifically, are you nervous about?”  
  
“I’m uncomfortable seeing Ron. He’s been treating me increasingly poorly and the last time I was honestly frightened.”  
  
Narcissa had to clamp down on her instant anger with the young Mister Weasley to answer Hermione in a calm tone of voice, “I understand that discomfort. You’ll have Harry and me with you the whole time. I don’t think Ronald will be willing to attack you in front of his mother and I daresay, if you bring it up, she might also be appalled at his actions.” Though Narcissa wasn’t entirely sure Molly Weasley had the emotional fortitude to hold her child accountable for himself, she knew Hermione needed to hear it and it was true that Narcissa and Harry would protect her.  
  
“I’m nervous about having to argue with Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione continued after Narcissa had finished.  
  
“Okay, and stop.” Narcissa stopped moving and, because she was holding Hermione’s hand, so did Hermione. “We do not have to argue with anyone. Hermione, we are two consenting adults who have decided to marry one another. We do not have to defend that decision to anyone, least of all Molly bloody Weasley just because she says so.”  
  
“Please don’t be cross with me, Narcissa, I’m already so nervous.”  
  
“Hermione, really,” Narcissa was frustrated. “I’m not cross with you but I want you to think about what you’re saying. I didn’t realize we came here to argue with anyone. I...I just want to calmly explain that we’re good for each other. It shouldn’t be an argument. That doesn’t benefit anyone. Listen, whatever happens. Whatever Molly says, you keep your cool. We both will. We have no need to defend ourselves because we haven’t done anything wrong.”  
  
“I’m sor-”  
  
“No. Not sorry. Don’t say you’re sorry. Say...say thank you for a different perspective. Save apologies for when you need them and they mean something.”  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and just leaned into Narcissa. “She sent me a Howler. She demanded that I show up here at two o’clock today. She insists that I’m marrying Ron and that our Engagement Announcement is rubbish. Narcissa,” Hermione said firmly, standing tall and holding the other woman’s forearms, “I’m angry. This is going to be an argument because she’s treating me like a child. I’m not arguing to prove our relationship has value, we know it does, regardless of what anyone else thinks. The argument is that her demands on me have no value because I am my own person, an adult capable of determining my own life. Thank you for the perspective. And the clarity. But I’m not going to be able to stay calm if she insists on speaking to me the way she did in that letter today. And you can be damn sure I’m going to tell her that.”  
  
Narcissa smiled mischievously, “That’s my Hermione. Let’s go.” She kissed her fiancée quickly but passionately and they turned and walked together, hand in hand, as usual.  
  
“Got that cleared up, did you?” Harry teased.  
  
“We did. I’m ready now,” Hermione said, setting her jaw as they knocked on the kitchen door.

“Harry!” George cried out as he opened the door. “I’ve missed you! How’ve you been, mate?”  
  
“George! I’m good, thanks. Glad to see you. How’s the shop?”  
  
“Oh, it’s fine, fine. Not exactly what I planned but, it’s fine,” he said looking past Harry. “Hermione, hey! Come and give us a hug woah. You brought her? Mum’s gonna go mad.”  
  
“Yes, well, we’re engaged. And your mother hasn’t been very kind to me, why on earth would I want to come here without Narcissa?”  
  
“As a peace offering?” They heard from inside. “You’ve really done a number on Ron this week, Hermione. Which was pretty cruel especially after the way you’ve been leading him on for years.”  
  
“Oh, shove it, Perce. She wasn’t leading him on. They kissed once. It’s not Hermione’s fault Ron took that to mean they were Romeo and Juliet.”  
  
“Thank you, George,” Hermione said kindly, stepping forward to hug the surviving twin. “I’m glad to see you and hear that the shop’s doing well. We’ll have to stop in soon.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Narcissa agreed, “Draco says your products are amazing, he’s been very impressed with your magic.”  
  
“Oy, thanks Lady Malfoy,” George smiled.  
  
Narcissa winced.  
  
Harry spoke, “It’s actually Mistress Black now, her marriage with that arse was dissolved back in May.”  
  
“Good on you,” George laughed, “but listen, I’m getting out of here before Mum sees you and all hell breaks loose. She’ll be on the warpath when she realizes Hermione’s brought you. Sorry, miss.” He shrugged.  
  
George shook hands with Harry, squeezed Hermione’s shoulder, and tipped his head to Narcissa before quietly tossing some Floo powder into the fireplace and heading out.  
  
“Who’s that I hear talking?” Mrs. Weasley shouted from another room. They were still standing at the doorway having not been actually invited to enter and sit down by anyone and the three of them listened to Molly getting closer. “Oh, Harry, dear, you’ve made it.” She said sweetly as she glanced into the kitchen. Then, “Hermione, finally,” not quite so friendly, “I’d better tell Ronald you’re here. He has some words for you I’m sure, oh! Mrs. Malfoy! What in Merlin’s name are you doing in my house? You were not invited!”  
  
Narcissa merely held her head higher and bit her tongue.  
  
“Mrs. Weasley, that was quite rude,” Hermione pointed out.  
  
Molly’s mouth opened and closed again without a sound coming out.  
  
Harry spoke, “I have to agree with Hermione on that one. Mrs. Weasley, they’re engaged to be married in just a few months and, unfortunately, you haven’t been very nice to Hermione so, of course, she’d want her fiancée to join her here.”  
  
“Harry! Ron is her fiancée. The Ministry assigned Hermione and Ron to marry one another. Why wouldn’t you want your best friends getting married? They’d be so good together. Ronald could settle down, start a family, be happy.”  
  
Before Harry could answer, Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder. “You’re right, Mrs. Weasley, the Ministry did assign us to one another initially. But that very morning I told Ron there was no way I would be marrying him. I know this is going to upset you but you need to know, even though Ron and I have been friends for a long time, he hasn’t always treated me very well. I will not be marrying Ron.”  
  
“The Ministry assigned you,” Molly folded her arms across her chest, adamant in her statement.  
  
“You’re right, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said, sounding tired, “the Ministry did assign us to one another INITIALLY but Narcissa and I went to the Ministry the next day to request to wed one another and they immediately agreed.”  
  
“I don’t understand. They just changed their list? On a whim?”  
  
“Not a whim,” Narcissa replied, “a request. From two consenting adults in a committed relationship. There was no reason to deny our request other than their previous, arbitrary assignments which were easy enough for them to change.”  
  
“Don’t you dare speak to me,” Molly spat, “I’ve already killed one Black sister…” she didn’t finish her sentence but the rest of it was implied strongly enough… “I could make it two.”  
  
“If you ever threaten her again, Mrs. Weasley, there will be hell to pay.” Hermione said, pointing her wand directly at the Weasley matriarch. “She saved my life. She saved Harry’s life. She saved the war. She’s one of my best friends and I’m going to marry her.”  
  
“Don’t worry, darling. She’s trying to provoke me into a duel because she’s trying to prove to you that I’m a dark witch. It’s not going to work. I’m not here to fight you. I thought, incorrectly I guess, that you cared for Hermione parentally and I appreciated that. I came here to meet with you and show you that I truly have no ulterior motives. I just want to marry her. She’s wonderfully and wholly perfect for me. I had hoped that seeing us together would change your mind. I thought you might be inclined to come to our wedding. I see I was mistaken. You don’t care for Hermione and, while that’s sad for my darling, it’s worse for you. You don’t even know what you’re missing. And you never will. We can go whenever you’re ready, ‘Mione and send those owls we need to take care of today,” Narcissa placed a gentle kiss on Hermione’s temple.  
  
“This isn’t going at all how I thought it would,” Harry admitted, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Mrs. Weasley, please. Think about it this way; if Hermione so clearly does not want to marry Ron, why would you want to force it to happen? It wouldn’t be a happy marriage if she doesn’t want to be in it. And I know it’s not just that the Ministry assigned them because you’re perfectly happy with me ignoring my Ministry assignment to wait and marry Ginny next year.”  
  
Molly’s cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and she glanced out the window. Narcissa, never taking her eyes off of Molly, whispered to Hermione to keep her hand on Harry’s shoulder. She cast a silent shield charm just before whomever Molly glanced at in the garden tried to hex them.  
  
Harry, having learned from his previous mistakes, did not attempt to disarm anyone and, instead, hit Mrs. Weasley, Percy, and Ron in the garden with a stunning spell.  
  
While the three Weasleys were frozen, Harry asked Narcissa what she thought about the distance from Ottery St. Catchpole to Seven Sisters Station London and how long it might take a stunner to wear off.  
  
“Hmm, a few hours probably. Give or take.”  
  
“Well, let’s go then. No one will starve in a few hours and, after that attack, I’m not inclined to release them with us still here and vulnerable.”  
  
As they turned toward the garden to leave, they saw Bill, Fleur, and Arthur Weasley standing and staring in shock at what had just occurred. Harry and Hermione kept their wands up and ready, not trusting any of the Weasleys.  
  
“Oh, no, ‘arry,” Fleur said moving quickly forward, “I see George was right to send us quickly. What has happened here? Why is Ron hiding in the garden?” She hugged him and then Hermione.  
  
“Hi, Fleur,” Harry said, blushing just a bit. “Mrs. Weasley was bang out of order and said some pretty terrible things to Hermione and Narcissa. Sorry, Mr. Weasley but it’s true. She even threatened Narcissa.”  
  
“I can’t believe it,” Arthur said, shaking his head, eyes glued to the ground. “She’s been really struggling since the end of the war. With George moving out and Percy home full time she’s been getting an earful of all kinds of pro-Ministry propaganda. I’m sorry, Hermione, Miss Black. I didn’t think she’d go this far.”  
  
“She sent Hermione a Howler today demanding a visit at two o’clock this afternoon. We all came hoping to have a conversation with her about it but she was very unhappy that I joined Hermione and Harry on their visit.”  
  
Arthur stepped forward, toward Narcissa, hand held out, “I’m sorry for not having said it sooner, Miss Black, Narcissa, but thank you. For saving Harry that night in the forest. What you did was so brave and, if you hadn’t, I would surely have lost this boy who’s like another son to me.” His eyes filled with tears as he thought about what could have been lost had Narcissa told Voldemort the truth, that Harry’s heart still beat beneath her palm.  
  
“I couldn’t,” she whispered back, her hand enveloped between both of his, “I couldn’t watch him die. He was just a boy. He had already lost and sacrificed and survived so very much. I couldn’t bear to watch him die. When he appeared there, in the Forbidden Forest, my heart just broke. I knew he wasn’t meant to make it out of there alive. It all happened so fast and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even have a wand. I didn’t know how to help him. All I could do was lie.”  
  
“To the most powerful Legilimens in the world,” Hermione said.  
  
“You saved him,” Arthur reminded her, hugging Narcissa. “Thank you.”  
  
They separated a few moments later and Narcissa turned to Hermione who was smiling at her in support. “Shall we go?”  
  
“No, no, no. Come back inside,” Arthur said. “We’ll sort this out. Let’s all sit down together like adults.”  
  
“Um, Mr. Weasley,” Harry interrupted, “Ron just tried to secretly hex us while Mrs. Weasley threatened to kill Narcissa. I’m not sure there’s anything to sort.”  
  
“Then just come in and tell us your wedding plans, Hermione and Narcissa,” Fleur said from next to her husband, Bill. “I saw you had your Announcement printed at Le Stylo est Plu Puissant, how did that happen?” She hooked arms with Narcissa and started walking back toward the house.  
  
Arthur threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders and walked with him behind Narcissa and Fleur, leaving Bill and Hermione to take up the rear.  
  
“I’m not at all sure about this,” Hermione said quietly.  
  
“It’ll be okay, Hermione. It’s six on three now and we’ll all stand together. Mum seems tough but she just needs a chance to see the reason and she’ll come round. Percy’s a knob, he’s going to join whichever side looks like it’s coming out on top. Ron’s a kid, he’s got a lot of growing up left to do and the war didn’t help.”  
  
The group re-entered the Burrow, Percy and Molly still stunned in the kitchen.  
  
“Now, everyone have a seat, I’ll put on some tea. Bill, can you get some biscuits from the pantry?”  
  
Narcissa sat between Hermione and Fleur who were framed by Bill and Harry. Hermione turned to look at Narcissa. “I’ll be okay, darling. We can go whenever we wish,” Narcissa whispered, lacing their hands together, a united front.  
  
“Now that we’re all settled, would whoever used the stunner please release them and we can all have a chat?”  
  
Harry muttered a release and Mrs. Weasley and Percy sprang back to life. Percy glared at Narcissa, assuming she was the one who had done it.  
  
“In my own house! You dare!” Molly shouted.  
  
“Well, Mrs. Weasley, I didn’t really have a choice. You were allowing Ron to hex one of us from the garden where we couldn’t see him,” Harry answered quietly.  
  
Ron came in a moment later, red faced and shaking. “Who did that? Who’s the coward who stunned me?”  
  
“Ronald,” Arthur said loudly, “I don’t think you should be calling anyone a coward right now when you were trying to hex people who couldn’t even see you.”  
  
“What-well-she-I was just trying to help Hermione. That witch was all over her, she even kissed her!” Ron shouted back.  
  
“‘That witch’, you little cretin, is my fiancée, as you well know, and I’ll not have you speak about her in that manner,” Hermione said clearly.  
  
“Let’s all settle down,” Arthur said calmly. “Molly, please, have a seat. I’ll put out the tea. Pass some biscuits. Ron, down by Percy please.”  
  
“We can’t have a reasonable discussion with Narcissa Malfoy at the table,” Molly sneered.  
  
Hermione wanted to spell the look right off the woman’s face, she was itching to use a well-placed bat-bogey hex but knew it wouldn’t actually help. She took a deep breath, counted to ten and turned to her extremely uncomfortable fiancée to ask, “Narcissa, I know the details of your marriage have been kept very private. May I please have permission to share some of them right now?”  
  
Narcissa couldn’t help but feel treasured by the way Hermione sought her consent and nodded, only a little hesitation evident.  
  
“I’m going to say a few things and if, when I’m done, you continue along the same vein, Narcissa and I will leave. We won’t come back.” Hermione said clearly, staring at Mrs. Weasley across the table. “You insist on her surname being Malfoy and it is the height of not only disrespect but also casual cruelty. Everything else aside, this one issue will be resolved first. You are well aware that Narcissa dissolved her former union in May. I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you do not know all of the details of that unfortunate union but here are a few: Narcissa’s marriage to that man was arranged when she was fourteen and he was twenty-two, she had absolutely no control over the engagement, the wedding, or the marriage, she wasn’t allowed to finish school before their wedding, she was a prisoner in the home in which she lived for nearly eighteen years, some of that time by her spouse and some of it a prisoner of the Dark Lord himself, Narcissa - at great personal peril - saved both my life and Harry’s on separate occasions. You shouldn’t need to know the gritty details of what life in Malfoy Manor looked like to offer this woman the solace of her own last name. I know you’re using Malfoy to be hurtful. Shame on you.”  
  
Silence descended and hung about the air for a long minute. Everyone waited for Hermione, Narcissa, or Molly to make a move.  
  
Molly folded first, “I…” she closed her mouth, jaw clenched and looked out the window, “I won’t do that again. I didn’t know what you’d gone through with him and I will be more careful to use your maiden name. Not that I think it’s any better.” She glared.  
  
“Exactly,” Ron chimed in. “Hermione, how can you defend her? Don’t you remember? She called you scum! Right in Madam Malkins!”  
  
Hermione closed her eyes as Narcissa leaned forward and gently grasped her leg. “It’s okay, Cissa,” she whispered first before answering Ron. “I do remember that, Ron, but it wasn’t actually Narcissa. I know we saw her there. She was awful, I remember, but listen. How did we get into Gringotts in May?”  
  
“Griphook, Harry’s cloak, a disguise for me, and Polyjuice potion so you looked like Bellatrix,” he answered immediately.  
  
“Right. Well, we weren’t the only people with Polyjuice and they had a Potions Master on their side who could brew them anything perfectly. Narcissa took veritaserum in May and told Kingsley Shacklebolt and a whole crew of Ministry employees everything she possibly could. Some of the information they wanted, it turns out, Narcissa wasn’t privy to because she was literally locked away in a room in Malfoy Manor.”  
  
“For very long periods of time, actually,” Narcissa added, in an unusually quiet voice.  
  
“She’s telling the truth,” Percy chimed in conversationally, “I saw that paperwork. They, what’s the word? Oh, they, uh, debriefed her for something like fifteen straight days. That’s why she was able to get her divorce done so quickly, they had fairly irrefutable evidence against Lucius Malfoy as an abusive husband who basically kept her prisoner in her own home.”  
  
“Perce, listen to yourself,” Bill said, aghast, “I mean, you’re talking about a woman who’s sitting here at the table and you sound like you’re discussing the latest novel you’ve read.”  
  
Narcissa’s eyes darted about the room, never settling on anyone, her hands were wringing themselves in her lap, and she sat perched upon the edge of her seat.  
  
After an awkward moment in which everyone avoided eye contact, Arthur spoke up, “Tea! Tea, let’s have some tea.” He set about pouring and passing around teacups for all nine of them.  
  
While everyone else was focussed on passing cups and sugar and milk and biscuits, Hermione rested her hand on Narcissa’s back and made gentle circles. “Are you going to be okay? Do you want to leave?”  
  
“No, I just feel rather exposed right now,” she answered, her blue eyes wide and looking suspiciously watery.  
  
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to upset you, I just wanted to stop her. And maybe make her feel a little badly,” Hermione smirked a little, trying to get something positive from Narcissa.  
  
“I know you didn’t, cub. I’ll be completely fine,” Narcissa reached up and ran the backs of her fingers down Hermione’s cheek.  
  
The younger woman smiled and asked, “You’ll be completely fine in three months, two weeks, and one day, right?”  
  
“Exactly,” Narcissa smiled back. The two simply looked into one another’s eyes for a moment until they realized the room around them had gone quiet.  
  
Hermione blushed a little, cleared her throat, and picked up her tea as though no one was staring; Narcissa followed suit.  
  
“And that, Mrs. Weasley, is why I don’t think Hermione is ever going to marry anyone other than Narcissa Black.”  
  
Looking as though she had just sucked on a lemon, Molly answered, “I must admit, you do seem rather smitten with one another.”  
  
“We are,” they answered in unison.  
  
“Mrs. Weasley, I know you’ve never cared for me the way you have for Harry. We came from such different circumstances, I understand. But Ginny is one of my dearest friends and Ron and Harry were like brothers to me for seven years, okay, maybe six and half,” she teased, drawing a small chuckle from Harry, “I just don’t want our relationship to end like this. I’m not marrying Ron, we’re not right for one another. He needs someone far kinder than I, with more patience, and humility. Ron you know that’s true. Even if my life weren’t turning into this fairytale where I found the perfect partner, I would still not marry you. I’m not trying to be cruel, it’s just the truth. We’ve been friends, best friends, for years, Ron. Then, suddenly you came back from abandoning us and discovered feelings for me but, honestly, I think it was just relief that we were all still friends and you wouldn’t be the third wheel. I do love you, Ron, as if you were my brother. And if you really think about it, you love me the same way you love Ginny. And I think what I’ve taken as disrespect in the past isn’t meant that way at all,” Hermione said thoughtfully, her voice slowing down and then growing stronger as the realization of what she was saying solidified for her, “I think it’s just...familiarity. I think you just...assume we’ll always be the Golden Trio and so you say and do things that perhaps you wouldn’t with other people because you trust that I’ll always just be there.”  
  
“And you will, Hermione,” Harry said, “as will I. We will always be the Golden Trio, regardless of who we each marry. Right, Ron?”  
  
Ron took a minute to think about it; eyes downcast, chewing on his lip, he was slow to answer. They didn’t rush him. Hermione knew she needed to find patience for Ron in the moment, she hadn’t shown him any in months. “I think,” he said haltingly, “I think that’s right. You’re like… family to me already. So, it made sense to me when the Ministry assigned us to get married and then Harry would marry Ginny and we’d all really be family, officially. I hadn’t considered that maybe you’re like family to me because you’re like a sister but I think that’s right, ‘Mione. And even if we don’t get married, we’ll always be family. I love you both, too.”  
  
“And this is more mushy rubbish than I can take on a Sunday afternoon,” Bill laughed. “If we’re no longer needed, we’re heading home. See you all next weekend at Shell Cottage for family dinner!” Bill and Fleur left, smiling together.

Everyone smiled at the couple as they left but the atmosphere around the table was still decidedly uncomfortable.  
  
“Well, thank you for the tea but Narcissa and I really do have some things to take care of today so we’re going to be off now,” Hermione said awkwardly.  
  
“Yes, thank you,” Narcissa agreed, looking at Arthur.  
  
“See you later, Hermione,” Harry said, patting the hand she rested on his shoulder on her way by.  
  
The couple made it to the door but just as Hermione pulled it open, her name was shouted from behind her. She turned to look at Mrs. Weasley, who was also standing, “Hermione, don’t. Just. Come with me, please.”  
  
The expression on Molly’s face tugged at Hermione’s heart and she reluctantly acquiesced.  
  
“I’ll be right back, Narcissa and we can go. Harry’s here and Mr. Weasley is really kind. Okay?”  
  
Narcissa nodded, “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”  
  
Hermione started to follow Molly but quickly turned back and threw her arms around Narcissa’s neck, “I...really am grateful for you,” she whispered, appreciating the feel of Narcissa’s arms around her waist.  
  
“And I for you, my lion,” Narcissa replied before kissing Hermione’s cheek and releasing the other woman.  
  
Hermione then headed toward Mrs. Weasley who was waiting in the doorway to the living room. When Hermione was near, she again asked, “come with me, please,” and Hermione agreed. Mrs. Weasley led her upstairs and eventually into a bedroom.  
  
“Mrs. Weasley, this is Ginny’s room.”  
  
“Yes, but look here,” she said, her voice wobbling as she pulled open a drawer in Ginny’s dresser.  
  
Hermione, confused, stepped over to her and looked. “But, that’s my shirt. And those are my pants!”  
  
“These are all your clothes, Hermione, in these two drawers. Clean and ready for the next time you came over. I’m sorry I didn’t treat you exactly the same way I treated Harry. I didn’t think that’s what you needed. Please don’t think for a moment that I love you any less than I love him. You are both unexpected blessings in our family. I didn’t know anything about Narcissa’s history and, you’re right, I was being cruel to her. Because she’s both a Malfoy and a Black and those families have long been known to be cruel themselves. But that doesn’t mean I have to be. And I should never have been so demanding of your time. I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m ashamed of the way I’ve treated you. Ron never said anything about you two discussing the situation.”  
  
Hermione sank heavily onto the edge of Ginny’s bed, overcome with emotion. Mrs. Weasley sat next to her and put her arm around Hermione’s shoulder.  
  
“I know what happened with your parents, Hermione. I’m sorry they can’t be here right now. I’m not going to try to force you to trust me again but, sweetheart, if I can be of any help I promise to be supportive.”  
  
The two just sat together and cried for a moment.  
  
“Now, now, dear, let’s get ourselves put back together before your very own white knight comes charging up these stairs for you,” Molly teased.  
  
“Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said quietly, still trying to get her breathing under control, “thank you for understanding. Please don’t believe anything Rita Skeeter writes about me.”  
  
“That woman’s full of vinegar. I’ll never believe Skeeter again.” She pulled up the bottom edge of her apron to wipe away the tear tracks from Hermione’s face. “Let’s go back down, you said you have some things to take care of today?”  
  
“Yes,” Hermione beamed, “we have to send our location information to the printer in Paris.”  
  
“I do hope we’ll be invited,” Molly said quietly as she followed Hermione down the hallway.  
  
“You will. I’m hoping Ron and Ginny will be standing with me alongside Harry. Though it’ll depend on the end of term at Hogwarts.”  
  
“When’s the date?”  
  
“Oh, um, the Winter Solstice? December the twenty-first, it’s a Monday night. And we’ve just booked Achnagairn in Scotland.”  
  
Mrs. Weasley gasped, “Achnagairn? That’s gorgeous, and so private. What a brilliant place for a Solstice wedding.”  
  
Hermione agreed.  
  
The kitchen was silent as the witches entered.  
  
“Oh, you’ve been crying,” Narcissa said, quickly making her way to Hermione, “are you okay? Why’ve you been crying?” She glared at Molly, who had the good grace to look chagrined.  
  
“No, no, it’s okay, I promise,” Hermione said, hugging Narcissa’s waist and resting her forehead on the shoulder in front of her. “I’ll tell you when we get to the Manor, but I promise I’m okay.”  
  
“If you’re sure,” Narcissa said, questioningly.  
  
Hermione hummed an affirmative.  
  
“Okay. Then. We’ll be off now,” Narcissa, however, made no move to release the woman in her arms, instead she pressed a kiss onto Hermione’s head.  
  
Molly reached out and patted Hermione’s back, a motherly smile upon her face. “Perhaps we can meet for lunch soon, the three of us? I can talk you through some wedding planning? I’ve just helped Fleur last year when she and Bill got married.”  
  
Narcissa blinked rapidly, clearly confused by the abrupt shift in opinion. Hermione, however, released one arm and turned so she and Narcissa were standing side by side and agreed that lunch would be wonderful.  
  
They said their goodbyes - much friendlier than before - and as they were about to walk out the door this time, it was Hermione who spoke.  
  
“Mr. Weasley?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Have you ever been around Amortentia?”  
  
“The Love Potion?” He laughed and nodded.  
  
“What did it smell like to you?”  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment to remember and got a dreamy, happy look on his face, “I smelled fresh bread and firewood and...something else…” he sniffed delicately and glanced at his wife.  
  
“Ginger perhaps?” Hermione offered.  
  
“Yes, ginger. How did you know?”  
  
“Because when I hugged Mrs. Weasley upstairs, she smelled exactly like a ginger snap.”  
  
Hermione gently closed the door behind them as she and Narcissa left.

Collapsing side by side onto the overstuffed, oversized lounger in the Black Manor library, Narcissa finally spoke for the first time since they left the Burrow.  
  
“What you just did was exceptionally sweet. Why?”  
  
“They needed it,” Hermione said simply. “They did lose a child in the war. Not just a child but a twin. And then they had to send their only daughter right back to the place where the biggest battle happened, where that child was killed. And they’re dealing with Ron who is, honestly, very immature. Regardless of how much I may love him like a brother. Life is just not easy for them.”  
  
“What on earth did she say to you upstairs?”  
  
Hermione turned onto her side and snuggled into Narcissa’s embrace. “She took me to Ginny’s room and showed me two dresser drawers that have been sitting there filled with my own clothing for the next time I visited. She said she's sorry for treating me differently than Harry and that it never meant she loved me any less. She apologized for a great many things. She’s struggling, just like the rest of us.”  
  
“So, you forgive her?”  
  
“For the things she did to me and said about me, yes. Not for the way she treated you. She needs to apologize to you for that, then I’ll consider forgiving her for it.”  
  
Narcissa just quietly held Hermione, contemplating the deep compassion the younger woman was capable of showing.  
  
“Yet you still did her a great kindness.”  
  
“I didn’t do anyone a great kindness. I merely reminded her and her husband that they love each other. I’m sorry if I hurt you by showing kindness to someone who had just been so cruel to you.”  
  
“Thank you for apologizing but there’s no need. You didn’t hurt me. You set a great example for compassion and humanity. I’m rather proud of you, actually, and I hope to live up to that example myself.”  
  
Hermione leaned back so she could see Narcissa’s face and when ice blue eyes finally met her own, she asked for a kiss.  
  
She was, of course, not denied.


	15. Restitution

“I’ll see you for tea tomorrow at Andy’s,” Hermione confirmed with Narcissa. They were standing together, holding one another tightly in front of the fireplace in Narcissa’s sitting room.  
  
“Would you like me to meet you at your flat? Of course, we can meet at Andromeda’s if you prefer.”  
  
“Come over as early as you like, I’ll be up,” Hermione whispered back.  
  
“I actually have some things to take care of in the morning. I’ll come by in time for tea, though, okay?”  
  
“Of course. I’ll see you then,” the younger woman said, loosening her hold. Narcissa in response squeezed a bit tighter.  
  
“Goodnight, my darling,” Narcissa murmured into Hermione’s ear before placing a teasing kiss just below her ear.  
  
Hermione sighed and smiled.  
  
“Goodnight.”  
  
They shared a lingering kiss before finally separating so Hermione could Floo back to her flat for the night.  
  
As Hermione trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, she couldn’t help but look forward to the future and spending the night next to Narcissa. After the day they had had, she really didn’t want to leave her future wife.  
  
A long shower and her favorite pajamas found Hermione curled up in her bed...tossing and turning.  
  
“Ugh. This is ridiculous. One night on a couch together does not a pattern make. I am fine. I can sleep on my own.”  
  
She flipped to her left side. Five minutes later she flipped back to her right side...still wide awake. She sat up, “warm milk.” Hermione stepped into her slippers and made her way downstairs. Entering the kitchen she let out a tiny startled scream seeing Harry sitting at the table. “What are you doing in here?”  
  
“I couldn’t sleep,” he laughed, “same for you?”  
  
“Exactly. I thought maybe some warm milk might help.”  
  
Harry pointed lazily, “Help yourself, it’s on the stove.”  
  
Hermione set about mixing honey, vanilla, and cinnamon into her milk before she joined Harry at the table.  
  
“What’s keeping you up, Harry?”  
  
“I can’t quite put my finger on it. I’m just not feeling totally sold on the Weasleys today. It was too easy to convince Molly and Ron. My mind is spinning. Same for you?”  
  
“Actually, no,” Hermione chuckled. “I’m not really worried about convincing the Weasleys of anything any more. We spoke with them today, which was more than I particularly wanted to do. Mrs. Weasley wants to help with the wedding planning which is never in a million years going to happen but it was kind of her to offer, I guess. Ron acted like he accepted my engagement with Narcissa but we’ll see if he sticks to that.”  
  
“Huh...well if those things aren’t keeping you up, what is?”  
  
“I’m absolutely ridiculous, that’s what.”  
  
Harry waited her out. He knew Hermione, she was his best friend after all, and he knew she’d never be able to keep a secret from him.  
  
“ I spent last night sleeping on a couch in a perfect little cottage in Hogsmeade wrapped up in Narcissa’s arms and it was...heaven. And I can’t sleep tonight because I’m ridiculous and I just keep wishing that I was back on that couch, with Narcissa, safe and happy and warm. Instead, I’m alone in my bed, thinking about her...and not sleeping.”  
  
“That is a little ridiculous but also very sweet. You two are good together, Hermione.”  
  
“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione smiled, stifling a yawn.  
  
Harry yawned back and they silently agreed to head to bed, carrying their mugs back upstairs with them.

Narcissa checked her robes one last time before heading out Monday morning. Her first stop was the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, a different person was working at the Wand Security Checkpoint and Narcissa was required to explain, again, that her former wand was destroyed at Hogwarts in May.  
  
“And do you have proof of such a claim, Lady Malfoy?” the security wizard sneered.  
  
“No, Officer,” Narcissa tilted her head to read his name tag, “Burbage, I do not. My son had borrowed my wand and after a confrontation in which Vincent Crabbe is said to have cast Fiendfyre, my wand was reported to me as destroyed. My son nearly lost his life in that fire and I was, honestly, quite distracted by my relief that he had survived to be all that concerned about my wand.”  
  
“So I’m to just take your word for it? Trust a Malfoy?”  
  
Narcissa bit her lip quite hard to contain the litany of insults she wished to throw at the rude, overly-confident, hyped-up security guard. Instead, she took a deep breath and spoke calmly, “I believe the witch who was working last Wednesday may have made a note somewhere? She was going to check with Master Ollivander himself about it. Unfortunately, I’m not quite certain how to verify the destruction of my wand other than with the testimony I’ve already presented to the Minister himself and the Wizengamot back in May. Just one point in fact, Officer Burbage, my name is Narcissa Black. I’m no longer a Malfoy.”  
  
“I don’t see a note anywhere, Lady Malfoy, do you?” the officer said, staring at Narcissa. “Now, you’re holding up the line. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. Come back with the proper paperwork.”  
  
Narcissa, jaw dropped open, stared at the angry security officer. She didn’t have any desire to make a scene, however, she was unaccustomed to allowing anyone to treat her so poorly in public. Deciding her next appointment was the more important one, Narcissa reached her hand out, “I’ll just take my wand and go, then.”  
  
“Oh, no. Your wand is Ministry property until such time as you can prove you’re the rightful owner.”  
  
Narcissa heard a gasp and glanced behind her to see a line of more than ten witches and wizards waiting to have their wands weighed to enter the Ministry.  
  
“What is the meaning of this?” Mafalda Hopkirk said loudly, making her way across the atrium to the security desk.  
  
“Head Hopkirk, miss. Lady Malfoy has an unregistered wand and can’t account for her previous wand’s whereabouts. I’ve confiscated this one for everyone’s safety, ma’am,” Officer Burbage smirked and puffed his chest out.  
  
“Are you daft?” Mafalda Hopkirk asked bluntly. “The registration for this wand is right there,” she pointed to the read out next to the scale. “Her name is Mistress Black and who gives a newt’s tail if she has an extra wand at home? As long as it’s not concealed on her person it’s none of our business! Are you harassing this woman? If you are unable to execute this job fairly and freely of discrimination, you will no longer be employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!”  
  
“Too right!” shouted a wizard from behind Narcissa.  
  
“You tell him, Hopkirk,” said another.  
  
Narcissa swallowed her objections, she tried to will her cheeks back to their typical porcelain coloring, she forced the tears from her eyes, and held her head high. “Thank you, Madam Hopkirk. I no longer have that other wand, it was destroyed in May. I believe the officer who was working the security desk Wednesday verified that with Wand Master Ollivander.”  
  
“It’s no matter, Mistress Black. Here is the receipt for your wand. Bring it back to this desk when you leave today and you’ll get your property returned to you promptly.”  
  
“Thank you, Madam Hopkirk,” Narcissa said, tilting her head, taking the slip, and heading to the lifts.  
  
As she made her way across the atrium she heard Mafalda Hopkirk leading Officer Burbage through the next interaction but he was exceedingly polite to the witches and wizards behind her. His problem, she deduced, lay with her. It was an unfortunate happenstance that was only going to occur with more frequency as she spent more time amongst the general public. My poor Hermione, she thought, I come with such baggage.  
  
Narcissa headed to the last lift in the line, the golden one that would take her down and sideways to the Archives. Narcissa stepped inside the lift and dropped the coin she had received into the slot. The doors slid closed and a pleasant voice announced, “Narcissa Black, Hall of Marital Records, Archive level 2.” Narcissa took a deep breath as the lift smoothly dropped, slid sideways, and dropped again before opening its doors to cavernous space filled with rows and rows of shelves.  
  
“Good morning, dearie,” said a wrinkled, little old woman from a desk a few feet away.  
  
“Good morning,” Narcissa answered automatically.  
  
“How can I help you, Miss Black?”  
  
“I’m not sure if you can. I’m here on a bit of a whim. Yesterday, a ministry employee referred to the ending of my former marriage as a divorce and I just wanted to check, with my own eyes if possible, that it truly was dissolved.”  
  
“Hmm,” the old woman furrowed her brow and tilted her head as she lifted her wand. Turning in her chair, she sent the shelving units around the room in an intricate dance until the one she wanted was just before them. “Your End of Marriage Document will be on this shelf, filed along with all pertinent paperwork. If I’m not mistaken, it’s a rather large file. May I ask why you’re looking?”  
  
“As you likely know, certain pureblood marriage contracts have certain clauses regarding, shall we say, relations and also subsequent marriages. With the latest Decree, I am engaged to be married to someone new, with whom I truly hope to have a long, happy, and equal partnership, Lady Metford, but I need to make sure this pureblood marriage contract was dissolved before that can happen. If that Ministry employee was correct yesterday and this was recorded as a divorce instead of a dissolution, there will be consequences I haven’t even begun to foresee - to both myself and my fiancée.”  
  
“Yes, you’re quite right, Miss Granger would face some unfortunate consequences as well. Let’s check then, dearie, shall we? These are sorted by date.”  
  
“If it’s the date of closure, then the twenty-eighth of May.”  
  
Lady Metford rearranged the shelves once more to bring May within easy reach and the women quickly looked through until they held a sturdy box labeled Black Malfoy between them. A table rose from the floor behind them, clearly meant for sorting through files.  
  
“I just ask, Miss Black, that you keep everything in order.”  
  
Narcissa nodded quickly, lips pressed together, eyes wide.  
  
As the keeper of the Hall of Marital Records went back to her desk, Narcissa carefully opened the box. Sitting atop was their original marriage contract, signed by Lucius and her father, Cygnus Black III. Narcissa herself was too young to sign all those years ago. She was surprised to find the marriage contract itself was quite detailed with sections added and amended by her father before his death.  
  
“Lady Metford? Are you very knowledgeable about the law regarding magical marriage contracts?”  
  
“A bit.”  
  
“There are a great many addendums to the original marriage contract and it looks like each one was signed by Lucius and my father, Cygnus Black III. How long would those have been legal? When the marriage was dissolved, what would happen to any goods or gold or properties that had exchanged ownership beforehand based on the contract and addendums?”  
  
“It’s my understanding that if two people agree to a contract and one of them breaks a contract term, they must pay the penalty, whichever form it takes. Once that penalty has been paid, though, it’s as if the slate is wiped clean. Unless, of course, there’s something in the contract that allows for penalties to grow with each offence or if a certain penalty would terminate the contract itself.”  
  
“Say, hypothetically, there’s a clause in a marriage contract that states if one spouse has an extramarital affair they must transfer gold to the family vault of the other spouse. If that marriage contract were dissolved, would those terms be reversed or would they simply stay as they were at the time of dissolution?”  
  
“Intriguing question, Miss Black. I would think they would stay as they were at the time of dissolution.”  
  
“If so, I think I need to make an extra stop at Gringotts today,” Narcissa said under her breath.  
  
Narcissa leafed through her testimony without spending too much time reading it carefully. She knew what she had gone through at Malfoy Manor, she didn’t need to relive it yet again. Finally, she came to the paperwork for which she was looking. The End of Marriage Document with all of its signatures and statements.  
  
“The Wizengamot under the recommendation of Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, hereby decrees the pureblood union and marriage between Lucius Abraxas Malfoy currently of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England and Narcissa Black Malfoy currently of Malfoy Manor dissolved and ended from this time forward due to the causes of abuse, neglect, dishonesty, cruelty, and adultery. The Wizengamot has seen and heard testimony to all of these charges. Such testimony will remain sealed to the public at the bequest of Narcissa Black Malfoy. Thursday the twenty-eighth of May in the year nineteen hundred and ninety-eight.” Narcissa was so relieved her head went light for a moment.  
  
Underneath that document, in the bottom of the box were two other papers. The first, the Ministry's charges against Lucius for what he had done to Narcissa during their marriage and the second, a motion filed by Lucius’ lawyer requesting the marriage decree be changed from dissolved to divorced. There was a big stamp across the top of the last page labelling it denied.  
  
Narcissa closed the box tightly with a finality she needed to feel.  
  
“Did you find what you were looking for, Miss Black?”  
  
“I did, Lady Metford,” Narcissa smiled, “and I think I have some more good news headed my way!”  
  
“Well, that’s lovely!”  
  
“Are all marriage contracts automatically filed here? When Hermione and I get married in December, will our marriage certificate show up here?”  
  
“Oh, no, it has to be filed by a Ministry employee. Usually someone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because contract law runs through them somehow.”  
  
Narcissa must have made a dissatisfied face.  
  
Lady Metford shrugged, “If no one sees fit to force change, it’ll never happen.”  
  
“Too true. Thank you for your help, have a lovely day!” Narcissa turned to go but was stopped by the record keeper.  
  
“You’ll need this to get back to the atrium,” she handed her a coin, similar to the one Narcissa had used earlier.  
  
Narcissa smiled at her in thanks and took her leave.

In her flat in Seven Sisters Station, Hermione made her way groggily into the kitchen where Harry had already poured her a cup of tea.  
  
She sat with him in friendly silence for a few peaceful minutes.  
  
“Did you sleep better after our midnight chat, Mione?”  
  
“I did,” she smiled. “The warm milk was perfect. You?”  
  
Harry shrugged, “I suppose.”  
  
“What are you up to today?”  
  
“I’m going to the Ministry to meet with some senior Aurors about the training we’re skipping. I want to actually do the reading they recommend.”  
  
Hermione put her hand on her heart, gasping, “surely you jest! Harry? Are you feeling okay? Reading voluntarily about something other than Quidditch?” They laughed together.  
  
“Ha, ha. I know you spent six years in school with me refusing to read but I want to make sure I’m doing this as safely as possible.”  
  
She reached out and grasped his forearm, “Well, I think it’s smart. Being an Auror is a dangerous job, you can never be too prepared.”  
  
After a moment of silence, the friends looked at each other and both said, “Constant vigilance!”  
  
“Ah, Mad-Eye,” Harry continued, “I reckon he’d be going nuts with the changes in the Auror department.”  
  
Hermione nodded and slid the Quibbler toward herself. “Anything today?”  
  
“Not really,” Harry said. “I think there’s mention of Draco and Dean’s beautiful ceremony and you and Narcissa looking captivating together. Nothing negative anywhere and no photos today. But there are a bunch of new couples listed.”  
  
“That’s a nice break. When are you going to the Ministry? I want to head to Diagon Alley and send some owl post to Hogwarts. I also want to set up a post box there like Narcissa said.”  
  
“I don’t need to be there until ten so I have some time. Go write your letters and get ready, we can go together.”  
  
“I’ll be quick,” Hermione said, standing and rinsing her teacup in the sink, “I’m just sending a quick note to each professor with whom I’d like to study for NEWTs requesting that they please let me know when they can schedule me in and asking whether or not they’re able to be flexible with that schedule. I’ll be right back!”  
  
Hermione popped upstairs and quickly wrote out letters for all eight of the NEWT subjects she wanted and then got dressed for the day. As she stacked the letters and slipped her feet into her shoes, Hermione paused. She had not often worried about her clothing or looks but found herself questioning what she had on for the day. Against her better nature, Hermione changed from her generic jeans and t-shirt into a pair of well fitting black trousers and a more flattering, button up top. She swapped her trainers for black sandals and started to smooth her hair into a quick twist. “No, Hermione. That’s too much. You are a woman with curly hair; own it!”  
  
Hermione met Harry downstairs and the two of them left for Diagon Alley.

“Thanks again for the coffee, Tom,” Harry said as they left the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
“Yeah, the pumpkin pasties were delicious,” Hermione complimented.  
  
They tapped the proper brick and the world of Diagon Alley opened before the two friends. It was bustling with the usual Monday morning activity.  
  
“I just want to pop into the Owl Post Office first, Harry. Do you want to come with? Or I can meet you somewhere after?”  
  
“Let’s go together. I might want to get a post box here as well.”  
  
Out of habit, the two of them scanned the street as they walked.  
  
“Hermione?” Harry asked.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Did that woman...I mean...was that Narcissa?” he nodded his head toward Gringotts.  
  
“I didn’t see,” she said, looking in that direction. “She had some things to take care of this morning. We’re meeting at our flat before we go to Andy’s for tea later, she may be here, I haven’t a clue.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry smiled, “it would be kind of funny if you two, even when you aren’t trying to spend time together, end up spending time in the same place.”  
  
Hermione just smiled and pulled Harry around the corner toward the Owl Post.

As it turned out, Harry was correct. Narcissa Black had just entered Gringotts Bank.  
  
“Yes, Miss Black, how may I help you,” Garnjee, one of the banking goblins said, not unkindly.  
  
“Um, hello, Garnjee, is it?” The goblin nodded and sat up a bit straighter. “Are you still the goblin who manages the Malfoy estate?” He nodded again. “I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me regarding the gold in my vault, the actual ownership of vault 710, and the Malfoy estate.”  
  
“Certainly, Miss Black,” he said, climbing off of his stool and scurrying down to the main level, “follow me to my office.” He led her through a short maze of low-ceilinged corridors until they got to an office with his name on it. “After you,” he opened the door and waved her in.  
  
“Thank you very much,” Narcissa said, impressed with the polite way he was treating her.  
  
“Your questions?”  
  
“Yes, I don’t know if my questions are all appropriate or if you are able to answer them but…”  
  
“You can still ask. I will not tell anyone what you ask me.”  
  
Narcissa smiled a bit at him, questioningly.  
  
“Miss Black, we know you saved the war. We know Voldemort killed Griphook and many other goblins. We know if the Death Eaters would have won we would be enslaved. What happens now with the Ministry isn’t perfect but our leaders at least can negotiate for us. If it had gone the other way.” Garnjee shuddered.  
  
“I understand. My questions are regarding the gold and the heirlooms in the Black family vault of which I am the rightful possessor, I think?” Narcissa was quite unsure how the transference of vaults worked.  
  
“You are the rightful heir by blood line and will to Vault 710. It was passed to you to share with Bellatrix Lestrange after the death of your parents,” Garnjee snapped his fingers and a drawer slid open. From the drawer, flew a thick file with the Black family tree drawn on the outside.  
  
“Did Bellatrix spend much of it?”  
  
“Madam Lestrange spent nothing of Vault 710, she used only the Lestrange family vault.”  
  
“After Bella’s death, did Vault 710 pass to anyone else?”  
  
“You are the only rightful heir of Vault 710. No one else has access without your express permission. Due to the activity of Potter, Granger, and Weasley earlier this year, no one may enter any Vault of which they are not the owner without the owner present.”  
  
That was not something Narcissa was expecting. She had honestly forgotten about Hermione’s catastrophic break-in at Gringotts and the damage they had caused.  
  
“Can you show me a general transaction history of the money in Vault 710 over the last, say, decade?”  
  
Garnjee opened the folder he had taken out and showed Narcissa exactly what she asked for.  
  
“Am I understanding this correctly? All of the deductions are for expenses related to Black Manor in Enfield and Maison de Black in Paris?”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
“What are all of these deposits?” There were dozens of little green deposit marks in the account history and, as she looked more closely, Narcissa was able to see that each one doubled in amount for a certain time period and then started over. Yes, in January, the green deposits would go back and start at two hundred fifty galleons and throughout the year, each time there was a deposit, the amount would increase. The eighteen months before the war ended saw more deposits than ever before.  
  
“Uh, Miss Black, are you sure you want an answer to that?”  
  
“Yes, I don’t understand. They double through the year but then, each January, they start back at two hundred fifty galleons. What on earth could that be?”  
  
“Miss Black,” Garnjee said in a small voice, “did you have a marriage contract?”  
  
“Yes, of course. It was dissolved in May,” she said quickly.  
  
“Do you happen to remember the punishment for cheating on one’s spouse?”  
  
Narcissa stared blankly at the diminutive goblin, then looked back at the bank account...then back at the goblin...she stared back and forth for a long, long, long five minutes.  
  
Finally, she realized what the deposits meant. “Oh, my, goodness. Are you saying...does this mean that each of these deposits is an act of adultery?”  
  
“I am not privy to the tenets of your marriage contract but I would assume that each of these deposits from the Malfoy Vault represents a broken clause. Someone must also have agreed to bring that back to a starting point annually or Malfoy would’ve gone bankrupt a decade ago. As it is, the only money he has left is what he makes himself.”  
  
Narcissa was completely baffled. The amount of money in her coffers was far beyond what she imagined with all the payments Lucius had had to make over the years. She wondered if he had known about them.  
  
“Garnjee, this has only led me to more questions.”  
  
“That’s okay, Miss. Ask them.”  
  
“Did Lucius know he was paying me every time? It looks like some of these payments happened twice in one day. Look here, on May second...wait a moment. May the second? I wonder what he did. Whatever it was he paid me, Merlin’s pants, twenty thousand galleons and twenty-two thousand galleons that day alone. A total of forty-two thousand galleons into the Black family vault in one day. Is that accurate?”  
  
“His personal banking records at home were magically updated with each deduction from his account so he could keep track of his fortune. He was making money with his various capital ventures, particularly the PureFloo he was a partner in. So, a lot of money was coming out but he did have some coming in. If you hadn’t ended your marriage, he wouldn’t have financially survived the year.”  
  
“And my son? Did he inherit the Malfoy family vault and estate?”  
  
“He did. He has full access to everything.”  
  
Narcissa’s heart dropped. She wasn’t foolish enough to think Draco thought his father was perfect but she was still devastated for her son, to know that he was going to see it written before his own eyes that his father was a terrible spouse, a terrible partner.  
  
“Did Lucius’ imprisonment terminate his business dealings?”  
  
“As far as I can tell, most of his partnerships are still active. One of them has ended but that’s because the active, managing partner is also in Azkaban and no one’s running the business.”  
  
“Which one was that?”  
  
Garnjee frowned and glanced away before answering, “the security operations.”  
  
“Security?” Narcissa hadn’t known Lucius was involved in security. That seemed a bit too wholesome for him.  
  
“Yes, they called it security. Lucius’ partner would go around to the wizarding shops in Wiltshire and demand payment for providing security.”  
  
“Oh, my goodness, they were running a protection racket? Right in Wiltshire? Do you have the names of the shops? Can I return that money?”  
  
Garnjee smiled, “Young Master Malfoy has already personally returned the money with his apologies and a lovely bonus.”  
  
“And the others? The remaining businesses?”  
  
“Yes, I mentioned PureFloo. You and Draco both still benefit from that and I would recommend you both stay on with that business. A few small shops in Knockturn Alley and Hogsmeade, they’ll probably be buying out your investment in the next five to ten years. You’re still in negotiations with Les Terreurs du Terrain for partial ownership. There’s also The Daily Prophet, you’re partial owners of that as well.”  
  
Narcissa’s eyebrows shot straight up. She was a partial owner of the Daily Prophet? The newspaper which had just printed a shoddy, nasty, and incorrect article about her? “I’m a partial owner of The Daily Prophet?”  
  
“Yes, see this green line?” Garnjee pointed to a monthly deposit and waited for Narcissa to nod. “That’s your payment from the Prophet. They almost went under when the war started. They’d been printing all those nasty things about Potter and then it was revealed that he and Dumbledore were telling the truth. Almost the whole of Britain cancelled their subscriptions. Your husband and a bunch of other opportunists swooped in, bought the paper, and kept it afloat. Also managed to get it printing what they wanted again for the most part. Now, whatever happened with the dissolution of your marriage contract, you got a lot of the business holdings because of the things he did bad to you. So, you’re a partial owner now.”  
  
Narcissa made a mental note to share that with Hermione later and asked about the next item that had stuck in her mind, “And just what is Les Terreurs du Terrain?”  
  
“Some French Quidditch team? They play out of Paris?”  
  
She nodded, smirking. “That makes sense, my son loves Quidditch. If that goes through and it turns up in my books I’ll want to sign that ownership over to him.”  
  
Garnjee was surprised, “Miss, Quidditch teams make a lot of money. Are you sure you don’t want to split it? At least for a while? Sometimes young people with that much money don’t make the best choices.”  
  
“Hmm, a valid point. Alright, I’ll hold off on that for now but could you just keep that thought for the future?”  
  
Garnjee smirked a little and looked sideways at Narcissa.  
  
“What? Did I say something incorrectly? I apologize if I’m doing this the wrong way, I’ve never been able to be in charge of my own finances.”  
  
“No, miss, it’s just that most purebloods don’t trust us goblins to do right with your money.”  
  
“Well, that’s just silly. You’re not going to work here if you’re not honest about it. You’re the Gringotts’ manager of my accounts and I trust you.”  
  
Garnjee nodded and spoke hesitantly, “I do have a recommendation for you then, Mistress Black.”  
  
“Go ahead,” she was listening intently.  
  
“You’re currently served with a high security vault, number seven hundred and ten. It was split years ago between your father and his sister, Walburga, when she married Orion Black. Walburga and Orion took Vault 711 which was left to Sirius and Regulus and eventually moved to the possession of Harry Potter based on the claim that Sirius was godfather to Potter. You, of course, could make a blood claim on that vault as a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” Narcissa shook her head and Garnjee continued, “I think you must, as your wealth has accumulated quite rapidly and is literally bursting at the seams of your vault, move to a maximum security family vault.”  
  
“What would that mean?”  
  
“Gringotts would move your wealth and treasures from Vault number seven hundred and ten to the Black Family Vault located deeper within the grounds of the bank. It would be guarded by key, goblin, and creature and have much more space available. It would come with a greater fee but a woman of your wealth wouldn’t even notice the cost.”  
  
“Before I agree, there’s a matter I believe we should settle. My future spouse was part of the group that executed a necessary but damaging venture inside the walls of Gringotts. Clearly, you have physically repaired the bank, it’s gleaming and beautiful once again. Witches and wizards are still utilizing your great institution. However, I’m sure there was a large cost associated with repairing the damages both structurally and socially,” Narcissa said smoothly.  
  
“Indeed there was,” Garnjee answered, his eyes black and narrowed.  
  
“I would like to pay for two thirds of that damage. Based on the amount on the bottom line of my ledger I can likely afford whatever the cost, within reason.”  
  
“Two thirds?”  
  
“I am requesting that I be allowed to pay for the portion of the damages caused by Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Granger-Black, and Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley will need to see about his own form of repayment to the bank but Hermione is going to be my spouse, my partner in all things. What’s mine is hers and I would like to settle this before we wed.”  
  
“And Potter?”  
  
“It’s a bit nuanced. He...was manipulated his whole life by people who he thought truly just cared for him. He confused love with need and offered loyalty where none was returned. I offer him my loyalty now expecting nothing back because, after eighteen years, he deserves it.”  
  
Garnjee steepled his long, bony fingers beneath his chin and stared at Narcissa for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, “I’ll need to clear your request with the bank management, Miss Black, but I will recommend that they accept your payment.”  
  
“Thank you. Would it be possible for me to wait while you ask now? Depending on the cost, we might not need to move my vault after all,” Narcissa bit her lip, tightening her hands together.  
  
“Miss Black,” Garnjee said as he stood up, “you have hundreds of millions of galleons in your vault in addition to Black Manor, Maison de Black, your family heirlooms, your artwork, and your business holdings. Paying the bank ten times over wouldn’t even make a dent.”  
  
“Then please, tell the bank manager that I understand the need to be considerably fair in the payment.”  
  
Garnjee chuckled, “That should quicken the conversation.”  
  
He was indeed back faster than Narcissa expected, however the bank manager had joined him.  
  
“Bogrod, nice to see you,” Narcissa stood and tipped her head to the goblin who had recently taken over as manager.  
  
“Thank you, Miss Black, you as well, please sit.”  
  
She did as asked and waited for one of the goblins to speak. Garnjee started, “Miss Black, Bogrod would like a little more than a simple payment. He’s asked to speak with you regarding his expectations for Miss Granger, Mister Potter, and Mister Weasley.”  
  
“Certainly, how can we resolve this to the bank’s satisfaction and security?” Narcissa asked.  
  
“You can start by having that little band of misfits apologize. Not once have they so much as muttered an ‘oops’ after destroying a building that’s centuries old and causing the deaths of a dozen goblins.”  
  
Narcissa sat up straighter, “I’m confused, Bogrod, no where have I seen anything that said any goblins were killed by Hermione, Harry, or Ron. They killed goblins? The Golden Trio murdered sentient, magical beings who were here simply doing their jobs?”  
  
“I didn’t say that. I said they caused the deaths of a dozen goblins. Voldemort did the killing because the Trio did the break in. They need to acknowledge their role in the deaths of our men and women and they need to pay restitution to the institution of Gringotts for the work we had to do to repair our hallowed halls and our hallowed reputations.”  
  
“I will bring them here this week to discuss the matter. I am prepared to pay Hermione and Harry's parts of that restitution today. What is the cost?”  
  
Bogrod smirked at her and it was so reminiscent of her sister’s smirk, Narcissa felt a shiver slither down her spine. “Four hundred ninety-six million galleons.”  
  
“It’s a shame you couldn’t be mature about this because I was truly willing to pay you two thirds of the restitution you wanted immediately. Now, you can wait. I’ll talk to Harry and Hermione, we’ll see what they say.” Narcissa started to gather her belongings to leave when Bogrod spoke up again.  
  
“Fine. I’ll accept seventy-five million and a publicly written apology printed in the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler.”  
  
“Done,” Narcissa stretched out her hand to the old goblin. He whipped a clean needle out of his pocket and instructed her to drip one drop of blood on the corner of the contract that had automatically drawn itself up as they spoke. He did the same and they smiled and left.

Narcissa stepped back out onto Diagon Alley and checked her pocket watch. She still had plenty of time before tea and was relieved she hadn’t missed her next appointment. As she made her way around the slight curve in the roadway, she thought she saw Hermione step into Eeylops Owl Emporium. “Hmm, it’s only been one night and I miss her so much I’m seeing her everywhere? Ridiculous!”


	16. Quite The Busy Day

A profound silence fell as the shop door closed behind Narcissa. She looked around uncomfortably, feeling slightly out of place.  
  
“Yes, may I help you,” a smartly dressed witch asked from behind a shining, glass display counter.  
  
“Good morning, I’m Narcissa Black. I sent an owl yesterday requesting an appointment?”  
  
The witch behind the counter nodded, “I received your owl with the post this morning. It’s unusual to do things that way here at Tiffany’s. Typically, wizards - or witches, in your case - just come in and look around. Is there some reason you don’t wish to do that?”  
  
Narcissa, hands clasped behind her back, willed herself to remain confident. “I was under the impression jewelry was your area of expertise,” unfortunately, her attempt at confidence instead sounded condescending.  
  
For a moment, it looked as though the shop employee was going to argue. Instead, she took a deep breath, inclined her head toward the back of the store, and waved her arm in that direction. “Miss Black, how about you join me at the table back here and we can discuss what you’re looking for. Then we both have a good starting off point to find exactly what you want. Yes?”  
  
Narcissa nodded and followed her.  
  
“Please, have a seat. My name is Katalina, pleasure to meet you, Miss Black,” she extended her hand.  
  
Narcissa reached out and shook the hand in front of her, “Thank you, please call me Narcissa. I’m sorry for my shortness. I think I’m a bit nervous.”  
  
Katalina smiled kindly. “Understandable. I assume, based on the announcement in Saturday’s Prophet, that you may be here looking for a ring or two?”  
  
“I am,” Narcissa blushed. “Hermione and I have done things a bit out of order. We decided to get married before either of us proposed because of the Decree. So, now I’m shopping for an Engagement Ring.”  
  
“Is Tiffany’s your first stop?”  
  
Narcissa nodded before saying, “I’d prefer to purchase a ring from a local jeweller, I think it’s important to support our own London businesses whenever possible and...you are Tiffany’s, after all.”  
  
Katalina smiled proudly, it would be great for business, especially with the Decree and all the upcoming weddings, if Narcissa Black purchased an engagement ring for Hermione Granger from Tiffany’s on Diagon Alley - she would love to outsell the flagship store on Old Bond Street.  
  
“I’m certain we can find or make the perfect ring for your future wife here at Tiffany’s. All of our products are the highest quality in the world and our spellwork is done by Master Charmers.”  
  
Smirking, Narcissa replied, “Katalina, there’s no need to sell me on Tiffany’s. As long as we can come up with the right piece for my Hermione, I’m going to purchase it here. I just don’t know where to begin looking at rings.”  
  
“Alright, if you can tell me a few things about Hermione, her habits, her hand size, her finger length, her typical clothing and jewelry choices, I can come up with some general options and we can schedule another appointment in a few days for you to look through them. After you’ve narrowed down from those choices, we’ll make some more tangible decisions like cuts and settings. Does that plan work for you?”  
  
“Yes,” Narcissa took a deep breath. “That sounds just right.”  
  
“Let me get a bit of parchment and you start talking about Hermione. What does she like to wear? Does she prefer gold or silver? Does she wear a lot of jewelry?”  
  
As Narcissa started talking about Hermione, Katalina scratched some notes on her parchment. After a few minutes, she had a good idea of what Hermione might like but there was likely one problem.  
  
“Miss Black...Narcissa, will Hermione also be purchasing an engagement ring for you?”  
  
Narcissa simply stared at Katalina.  
  
“I apologize for the intrusive question,” the jeweler said hesitatingly, “I only ask because we want to make sure they don’t clash.”  
  
“It wasn’t intrusive. I just haven’t a clue. I want to say I assume so, but I shouldn’t. Hermione might not even believe in engagement rings. She might find the whole thing distasteful and patriarchal. Oh, bollocks, what if this is a mistake?” Narcissa dropped her head into her hands.  
  
Katalina’s eyebrows shot up. “Narcissa, I doubt it’s a mistake. You have some time before you have to make any final decisions. Why not use the next few days while I do this part to drop some hints around Hermione and see what she says?”  
  
“Yes, I guess I must. Oh, I do hope she wants a ring,” Narcissa said, rising from her chair. “I have a very romantic proposal in mind,” she blushed. “Shall I wait for your owl or set an appointment?”  
  
“I’ll have this ready by, say, Thursday morning? See you at ten?”  
  
“Ten o’clock, Thursday morning. Thank you, Katalina, see you then,” Narcissa was off.

It always took a long moment for Harry’s eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the Owl Emporium. There were quite a few customers already inside so he and Hermione looked around as they waited.  
  
“Do you think I should get an owl, Harry?”  
  
“Hermione, I know Crookshanks staying at Hogwarts was tough on you but I’m not sure you’re really an owl kind of person, are you?”  
  
“Harry! Yes, I’m sad about Crooks but I think he’ll come stay with us at the Manor when I move. The flat’s just not quite right for him, he really is part kneazle. And that has nothing to do with getting an owl. I just thought it would make for better and easier communication if I had my own,” she finished, sounding a bit cross.  
  
“I’m sure it would make for better and easier communication...with your fiancée,” he teased.  
  
Hermione blushed and wandered away to look at the owls in the back. She came back to Harry after a few minutes, “Oh, Harry! There’s a clutch of Spectacled Owls that are almost through the fledgling stage, they’ve said. They’re so cute! Come see!” Hermione dragged him to the back of the shop where they’d magically expanded to put in a tree for the owlets to learn from.  
  
The two watched the Spectacled Owls practice flying for a while, laughing at their antics and commenting on the obvious cuteness. Eventually, though, they headed back to the front of the shop so Harry could speak with someone about the owl he was waiting on.  
  
As the two walked to the front of the shop, Hermione smiled. When Harry questioned her she said it was nothing, she had just thought of Narcissa. They stepped around a large cage holding a family of Tawny Owls and found themselves faced with a nearly empty shop save for one customer at the counter. Her back was to them but there was no mistaking Narcissa Black.  
  
“Well, yes, she does like a good rescue but I think I’d like to get her an owl that could be just hers. Is that...am I being silly?”  
  
“No, Miss Black. There are benefits to both situations. A rescue owl can offer their new human companion true loyalty because they’ve known loss. A brand new owl can build that relationship from the start with their human companion.”  
  
“Maybe I should ask Hermione which she would prefer before I just buy her one,” Narcissa doubted her impulse.  
  
The clerk at the counter glanced back at Hermione and Harry and smiled, saying, “I happen to know she is quite interested in the fledgling Spectacled Owls in the back. They’re practicing flying as we speak.”  
  
“Are they? Can I go take a peek at them?”  
  
The man behind the counter nodded and watched Narcissa turn towards Harry and Hermione, the latter of which had an uncontainable grin on her face though she was clearly trying to keep it in. Once Narcissa was facing her, Hermione wiggled her fingers in a little wave.  
  
“Oh! Hermione?” Narcissa smiled and stepped toward the other woman.  
  
“Hi,” she answered with a shrug, gravitating immediately to Narcissa.  
  
As they reached one another and their arms wrapped around each other, they pressed their foreheads together for a brief moment.  
  
“Was this one of the things you wanted to take care of this morning?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Actually, no, this was an impulse buy because I thought I saw a young woman who looked remarkably like you walk in here as I was on my way to attend to a previous...task,” Narcissa laughed.  
  
“And Harry thought he saw a woman who looked remarkably like you entering Gringotts not long ago. Even when we aren’t spending the day together, we spend it together,” Hermione grinned.  
  
They heard the clearing of a throat from nearby before Harry spoke, “Narcissa, good morning.”  
  
“Hello, Harry,” Narcissa said letting go of Hermione and leaning over to place air kisses on Harry’s cheeks.  
  
“Well, I feel like a proper gentleman now. Hermione, Narcissa, I must be off to the Ministry. We’ll chat later, ladies,” he squeezed Hermione’s hand and tipped his head to them as he started toward the door.  
  
“Bye, Harry! See you tonight!”  
  
“I started my day at the Ministry,” Narcissa said darkly, “a most unenjoyable experience.”  
  
Harry stepped back toward the women and quietly asked after Narcissa.  
  
“Nothing unusual. The security wizard at the wand weighing station didn’t believe a word I said. If Mafalda Hopkirk hadn’t arrived when she did, I’d still be standing there waiting, wandless, not allowed to move.”  
  
“Oh, Narcissa,” Hermione wrapped an arm around her fiancée’s waist.  
  
“Why are they doing this? They’re just making things worse,” Harry was disgusted. “Who was it, Narcissa?”  
  
“Burbage? A younger man, early twenties likely.”  
  
Harry and Hermione, wide eyed, looked at one another and quickly around them.  
  
“See you later, Harry,” Hermione said with false cheer, encouraging her friend to leave.  
  
Narcissa was extremely confused...and she didn’t like it one bit. “I feel as though I’ve missed something.”  
  
“Narcissa, do you want to go window shopping with me?” Hermione smiled, forced and fake.  
  
“Okay,” she answered, dragging out the word.  
  
“We’ll be back to look at those Spectacled Owls tomorrow! Maybe the little one will be ready to go soon,” Hermione said kindly to the shop clerk.  
  
“I’ll put a hold on her for you, Miss Granger.”  
  
Once in the street, Hermione tucked her arm around Narcissa’s waist and drew the woman close to her side.  
  
“Hermione, this is rather improper for a daytime public display.”  
  
Hermione giggled just a bit, “Narcissa, please. It’s not 1898. We’re going to be married in three months and two weeks.”  
  
“Tell me what I don’t understand. What do you and Harry know?”  
  
Hermione used their closeness to speak directly - or as directly as her shorter stature would allow - into Narcissa’s ear, “Do you know who Charity Burbage is?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Oh, dear,” Hermione let out a deep sigh, “Narcissa she was the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts starting our first year.”  
  
“Okay, so her family hates me? Because my son didn’t take Muggle Studies? His father refused to allow it and I just couldn’t fight every battle so I let that one go.”  
  
“No, Narcissa. Her son treated you that way because, as far as we can tell from reports from Snape, Charity Burbage was kidnapped by Death Eaters last July, held captive, tortured, and murdered by Voldemort before being fed to his snake Nagini on the dining room table at Malfoy Manor.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Narcissa gulped and pressed a hand to her stomach. “That is...absolutely atrocious. I think I might be sick.”  
  
Narcissa ducked quickly into an alley and unfortunately her stomach rebelled. Hermione followed performing a quick Notice-me-not charm and keeping a supportive hand on Narcissa’s back. The older woman straightened up, still facing away, and started to turn back but quickly stopped herself, retching again.  
  
“Narcissa, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry to have told you that. Just breathe through your nose, okay? In through your nose and out through your mouth. Slow and steady,” Hermione kept murmuring to the other woman, rubbing her back.  
  
When Narcissa finally turned to look at Hermione, her face was decidedly pale and her eyes suspiciously red.  
  
“No wonder,” she whispered, holding back tears, “no wonder he hates me. He should. His mother was...that happened to her in the place I called home. Hermione-”  
  
“If what you’re about to say has anything to do with us not getting married, don’t say it. Three months and two weeks. We have a lot to do before then but first let’s get you some ginger sweets at Sugarplums.” Hermione wrapped her arms as tightly as she dared around Narcissa’s neck and held the other woman to herself. “Three months and two weeks, Narcissa, and I can’t wait.”  
  
“Merlin knows, Hermione, I lo...lucked out with you,” Narcissa tried to calm her breathing.  
  
“I feel the same about you, Cissa. Let’s go get you that ginger.”  
  
They left the alley, arms around each other once more. “I know we’re supposed to be at Andromeda’s for tea in a bit but would you mind terribly getting some tea now? Cassiopeia and Calliope’s on Knockturn Alley has a really soothing Ginger Honey Tea that will help settle my stomach - and get this taste out of my mouth.”  
  
“Of course, we can do that. Is there such a thing as too much tea?” Hermione teased, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “You know I’ve never actually shopped on Knockturn Alley.”  
  
“I’m not all that surprised. Your parents wouldn’t know about it and they met the Weasleys rather quickly who would’ve told them to avoid it. It’s a shame, really, that the whole street has such a poor reputation with people. There are some wonderful, upstanding shop owners with delightful shops there. Cassiopeia and Calliope’s being a perfect example.”  
  
“It’s a tea shop?”  
  
“Mmhmm, all kinds of teas. They sell locally sourced teas but also specialty options from around the world and beautiful tea cups and strainers. Hmm,” Narcissa seemed to lose herself in thought at the end of her statement.  
  
“Where did you just go? Are you okay?”  
  
“Yes, darling, I’ll be okay. Just a bit queasy. I had a thought about our wedding, in fact,” she smiled.  
  
Hermione squeezed lightly with the arm around Narcissa’s waist, “tell me, please.”  
  
“I was just thinking that if we plan on our wedding reception going late into the night, perhaps we should supply each overnight guest with some tea from Cassiopeia and Calliope’s. It would be a lovely gesture to leave a gift bag as part of the wedding favors in each room and it would support a local business that doesn’t get much foot traffic.”  
  
“Absolutely. That is a brilliant idea and I love it! Now explain to me how a tea shop manages to survive with no foot traffic.”  
  
Narcissa chuckled, appreciating once more Hermione’s brain. “Advertisements and mail orders. They advertise in the Prophet and Witch Weekly and list their location as London based. They never tell potential customers they’re shop is actually on Knockturn Alley.”  
  
“Smart...but frustrating. Let’s add it to the list,” Hermione said, only partially joking.  
  
Rounding the corner, the air seemed cooler and the sky darker as they stepped onto Knockturn Alley. Hermione realized it was only the building facades being darker and the blackened windows but it was eerie just the same.  
  
“We need more businesses to come in here and open up shop. All these closed storefronts will never help Knockturn Alley sales increase,” Hermione said.  
  
“You’re very right, dear, but most potential business owners have no interest in opening on such an infamous street. It would need quite the overhaul to make that happen.”  
  
“Well, look, you still have the tea shop and Twilfitt and Tattings. And over there is Borgin and Burke’s, right?”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Narcissa nodded, noting to herself that the few shops she had a hold in were all open.  
  
“What else survived? Is that a small apothecary shop? That’s good, right?”  
  
“Well,” Narcissa leaned over to look like she was pressing a kiss to Hermione’s ear and whispered, “they mostly carry illicit materials and illegal potions. They’re only still open because the old hags on the Wizengamot buy their face creams there - half the old wizards, too.”  
  
Hermione chuckled, “Narcissa!”  
  
“Knockturn Alley will never be able to completely do away with its poor reputation because there are shops here that people will always associate with the seedier side. The most used wizarding undertaker is here, the tattoo shop, the necromancy shop is still doing a lot of business, and the prophesier is here. Interestingly enough, I found out today that I have a business holding on a few of these shops.”  
  
“What? Which ones? That’s...I have so many questions!”  
  
“I know, I didn’t expect it either. Lucius liked to buy into businesses that were struggling and encourage people to shop there. It was kind of a game to him, I think? Some of those holdings have been transferred over to me. Like Twilfitt and Tattings, for example, and, oddly enough, Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. I think, if I read correctly, I’ve just been bought out of a few shares in the White Wyvern Pub over there.”  
  
Narcissa reached out with her free arm and pulled open the door to the little tea shop, hoping the women she had come to appreciate were still there - and still brewing the ginger tea that would settle her stomach upset. She and Hermione had barely stepped inside when they were noticed.  
  
“Oh, Morgana! Cass get out here!” the purple-haired woman at the counter shouted.  
  
“What? What is it?” they heard from the back followed by racing footsteps.  
  
“Narcissa Malfoy in the flesh!” the first woman said, clearly happy. She came around the counter, arms outstretched toward Narcissa who smiled shakily and released Hermione to embrace this woman.  
  
“Shut it! Narcissa? It’s been over a year! Oh, Morgana’s tits, it is you!” she too reached out and wrapped her arms around Narcissa. The three stood hugging for a long moment.  
  
When they stepped back, all three women had tears on their cheeks. Narcissa reached blindly for Hermione and pulled the younger woman almost completely in front of herself. She wrapped her left hand around Hermione’s hips. “Cass, Cal, it’s Narcissa Black now. I’d like to introduce you to my fiancée, Hermione Granger. Hermione, darling, the one with no sense of proper hair colour is Cassandra and the foul-mouthed one is Callista.”  
  
“Fiancée?” the shopkeepers asked in unison.  
  
“Pleasure to meet you both,” Hermione said politely.  
  
“I think this calls for some tea. Close the shop, Cass, I’ll set the water to boiling. Gotu kola with lemon balm, Narcissa?”  
  
“Actually, I’d like some ginger honey tea if you have some.”  
  
“The Mum’s Tea?” Callee asked, staring hard at Narcissa.  
  
“Yes but neither of us are pregnant, I assure you. I just have a bit of a sour stomach.”  
  
Callista nodded and started pulling out various assortments of leaves and spices, cups, saucers, and strainers.  
  
Cass put out a sign reading “Be Back Soon”, closed the curtains, and pulled a cozy table down from the wall.  
  
“Brilliant,” remarked Hermione, “I like the way you utilize your space.”  
  
Cass simply nodded in response. Hermione got the point, her opinion here was unappreciated.  
  
“It is amazing, isn’t it, darling, what creative shop owners can do with a small location?”  
  
Hermione may have been unappreciated by Cass and Cal but she knew Narcissa didn’t feel that way, and that meant a lot more to her in the end. She nodded, smiling up at the taller woman.  
  
“Earl grey,” Cass snickered derisively from behind the counter.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Cal countered with an equally snarky, “chamomile.”  
  
When Hermione looked questioningly at Narcissa, she explained that the women were trying to figure out what kind of tea Hermione would drink, earl grey and chamomile being bland and typical. Narcissa then spoke a little louder, “I think it’s rather immature of them, of course, as they’ve hardly met you and you haven't even had a simple conversation with them yet. I would hope any friends of mine would treat my fiancée with whom I am going to spend the rest of my life with more kindness and respect than that.”  
  
Cass groaned. Cal chuckled.  
  
“Sorry! Hermione Granger of the Golden Trio, what kind of tea would you like?” Cass was a funny one. “See, Narcissa, we do know who she is.”  
  
Hermione snorted, “I tend to like bolder flavors and nothing too flowery. I think I’d actually like to try the ginger honey tea, if that’s not too strange. If it’s as good as I’m hoping I’ll buy some to bring home. Harry loves tea.” She rolled her eyes.  
  
“Two ginger honeys coming up.”  
  
“You know, with the stress of apparently planning a wedding, you might want to take some of the Gotu kola with lemon balm, Narcissa. That’s always done you well. And if you like ginger, Hermione, you might want to think about some of our own Easy Tea. It’s a blend we created, mix it with a bit of honey and it should help ease anxiety and reduce stress effects,” Cal offered sincerely.  
  
“I will, thank you,” Narcissa answered immediately.  
  
Hermione smiled and said the same.  
  
Finally, all four women were seated at the table with cups of tea and a plate of ginger snaps.  
  
“You’re divorced?” Cass asked bluntly.  
  
“My former marriage was actually dissolved. It’s different from a divorce when it comes to pureblood marriage contracts. A divorce would have still left me legally bound to Lucius in some archaic way. The dissolution severs all ties so he has no claim on me, my properties, my finances, or anything I might do in the future. And the same goes for him. I have no claim on any of his properties or finances - and I don’t want them. At all.”  
  
“You’re engaged?” Cal asked, equally bluntly.  
  
“We are,” answered Hermione, smiling and reaching a hand out for Narcissa’s.  
  
“We’re going to be wed on the Winter Solstice. Three months and two weeks from today.”  
  
“We have so much to do but there’s no one I’d rather do it with than Narcissa.”  
  
“Though it’s not the way either of us would have foreseen our engagement or wedding happening, it’s actually working well for us now. We’re happy, I think.”  
  
“Definitely happy,” Hermione finished.  
  
Cass and Cal had been looking back and forth between them as the two spoke but Hermione and Narcissa had only had eyes for one another.  
  
“On second thought, Narcissa, I think the Gotu kola might be a little strong for you now. You’re practically a different person than you were five years ago. Wedding planning might be stressful but this is nothing like the stress you used to have.”  
  
“Thanks, Cass,” Narcissa smiled at her friend, feeling her stomach start to settle with only a few sips.  
  
“Honestly, Narcissa, you look a decade younger and a lifetime more joyful. I’m so happy for you. What does Draco think of all this?”  
  
“Oh, Cal, that was so sweet,” Narcissa blushed.  
  
“Draco is pretty happy himself lately. He’s going to law school this year and living in Black Manor with Narcissa. He’s doing really well,” Hermione answered.  
  
Cassandra snorted, “I don’t see how that can be true seeing how he was assigned to marry Margaret Runcorn.”  
  
“Assigned, yes. Haven’t you read the papers?” Narcissa asked.  
  
Cassandra and Callista shared a look. “We actually cancelled all of our subscriptions to the daily papers and even Witch Weekly.”  
  
Narcissa worried it was because the shop wasn’t doing well and they couldn’t afford it, “You know I’ve always loved this shop. If things are slow, I’d be honored to buy in and be a silent partner.”  
  
“Oh, love,” Cal said, “we didn’t cancel the papers because of money. When the Decree came out last week we decided right away that we didn’t want to read about our own futures in the paper. If the Ministry is going to do something so egregious as determine our own fates, they’re going to have to let us know personally.”  
  
“In fact,” Cass narrowed her eyes at Hermione, “I’m fairly certain I remember your name being in the very first article the Prophet printed about the Decree. You were assigned a spouse and it wasn’t Narcissa. What’s going on here?”  
  
Hermione took a deep breath and nodded once before beginning to speak, “you’re right, I was assigned to marry Ron Weasley because the Ministry was under the impression that he and I were already dating. We weren’t. Narcissa was privately informed via Owl Post from the Ministry that was assigned to re-wed Lucius Malfoy which is absolutely reprehensible and whomever made that decision ought to be fired.” Hermione took a deep breath and a sip of her tea, clearly agitated by the Ministry’s lack of compassion for what Narcissa had experienced and survived at the hands of Lucius.  
  
“It’s okay, darling,” Narcissa pressed a kiss to the back of Hermione’s hand, “I’ll take it from here. The two of us went to the Ministry the next morning and requested that the wizard in the Muggle Registration Commission office who was assigning pairs simply re-assign us to one another based on our existing relationship.”  
  
“Well, it seems reasonable when you say it that way,” Callista shrugged.  
  
Narcissa and Hermione smirked.  
  
“So, you’re all caught up with me. Now I want to know what’s going on with you two? Any handsome lads in your lives lately?” Narcissa questioned her friends, “I’m not judgy, of course, maybe you’ve switched teams! Any beautiful ladies knocking down the door?”  
  
Laughing, Cal answered for them both, “No one here’s switching teams, mate. Unlike you!”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Narcissa laughed as well, “then answer about the handsome lads! I’m sure there’s a rotating door of tattooed tea drinkers coming through!”  
  
“Not for me,” Cassandra answered, hiding a small smile behind her large teacup.  
  
“Oh? Do tell,” Narcissa pulled one leg up under her on her chair, getting comfortable.  
  
Callista elbowed Cass and joined in with a tease.  
  
Cheeks burning red, Cass laughed loudly and shushed the others, “I will, I will! Okay, he’s just a guy I met.”  
  
“Yeah,” Cal said, “a tattooed tea drinker!”  
  
“No,” Narcissa cackled.  
  
“Yes, yes, okay! He’s got the most insanely gorgeous tattoos and we met in China sampling ginger,” she dropped her head onto her arms. “It’s so cliche! I’m embarrassed!”  
  
“That’s adorable,” Hermione cooed, “you’re into the same things.”  
  
“We really are; it’s almost uncanny. He owns a tea shop up in Scotland, in Aberdeen. He travels around sampling spices the same way I do. He loves his tattoos, same as me. And his favorite book is Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling! The very same book I carry around with me!”  
  
Hermione and Narcissa glanced at one another, both hoping their thoughts were the same.  
  
“But, Cassandra,” Hermione said, “if you really like this bloke, what will you do if the Ministry assigns you to marry someone else?”  
  
“That is exactly what I keep asking,” Cal agreed. “It was rough ‘round here for a while. The darkness really settled in and no one was acting themselves. We closed the doors and only sent out our stuff through the Post, made the shop look abandoned. It was dark times, Narcissa, dark times. So, if you have a chance at happiness now, you grab it, right?”  
  
“Right,” Narcissa agreed, grasping Callista’s hand across the table. “That’s what we’re doing. Grabbing happiness.”  
  
“Well, I supposed if I’m assigned to someone, I’ll just talk to him about it. Whit’s a good guy but I don’t want to rush into anything if we don’t have to. We’ve only just met a few months ago.”  
  
Narcissa agreed that Cassandra’s plan was a sound one and made a mental note to discuss it with Hermione later when they were alone.  
  
The foursome continued their chat about Whit and Cass and eventually the subject turned to Callista. She just wasn’t ready to date again.  
  
“I don’t think I’ve settled back into feeling safe in my life yet again. The last two years have been pretty hairy, the last year was terrifying, even you were so different when I saw you last summer, Narcissa.”  
  
Hermione squeezed Narcissa’s hand in her own, knowing it was quite likely not Narcissa who Cassandra had seen.  
  
“Yeah, that was the day we decided to close up the storefront. We figured, if you had really gone to that side of things, it wouldn’t be safe here anymore,” Cal told them.  
  
Narcissa cleared her throat, trying to keep the tears from falling.  
  
“Um, I guess you two don’t know this yet, really no one does, uh, but clearly Narcissa trusts you. Last summer, you didn’t see Narcissa. We can’t be sure who it was you had contact with but it appears that the Polyjuice Potion at Malfoy Manor was used frequently to make it seem as if Narcissa was still out and about with Draco, Lucius, and Bellatrix. She was, in fact, being held captive in the Manor. Not in the dungeon with the prisoners but a prisoner nonetheless.”  
  
“Oh, thank Merlin,” Cassandra dropped her head back.  
  
“Seriously, I feel so much better right now. Whoever it was, they were so rude to us and they were with Draco so it was very odd. They went into Twilfitt and Tattings.”  
  
“Bellatrix,” Hermione and Narcissa said together. Hermione continued, “I think Lucius was still in Azkaban at that point.”  
  
“My friends,” Narcissa reached both hands out to grasp Cass and Cal, “I’m sorry but I’m afraid Hermione and I really do have to be going. We have another appointment this afternoon and we’re practically late as it is.”  
  
“Already? No, Narcissa, we’ve missed you,” Cassandra jumped up and moved around the table to hug her friend.  
  
“Yeah, and you guys haven’t told us anything about your wedding yet!”  
  
“We don’t want to spoil any details until we can sit down together and tell you everything we already have planned. Let’s owl each other and set up a dinner. You can come to Black Manor, it’ll be lovely,” Narcissa coerced them into agreeing.  
  
“Tonight.” Cal pouted.  
  
Laughing once more, Narcissa regretfully declined. “I promise it’ll be soon but Hermione and I truly have so much planning and organising to be done we just can’t make it tonight. I swear, we’ll owl you and get together as soon as we can for dinner.”  
  
“We’ll hold you to it!”  
  
“I know you will,” Narcissa smiled, patting Cass’ cheek.  
  
“Just one sec, we’ll get your tea ready to go,” Callista said, hurrying to the back of the shop, shouting as she went, “I’m not going to give you the Gotu, Ciss, you don’t need it anymore. I’ll send you both with some simple ginger honey tea, the Mum’s Tea you just had, and the Easy Tea I mentioned to your girl earlier. That should do you right. Do you need anything to make it with, cub?”  
  
When no answer was forthcoming, Narcissa nudged Hermione, “she means you, darling. Do you need any strainers or measuring spoons?”  
  
Hermione blushed and whispered into Narcissa’s ear, “I’m sorry, this is going to sound silly but it feels a little foolish to buy these things when you have them and we’re going to move in together in a few months.”  
  
Narcissa kissed the lips so near her face and answered Hermione, “I adore your pragmatism but think of it this way, only buy the things Harry doesn’t have and then when you move into Black Manor, or wherever we decide to live, you can give him all the tea accoutrements you purchase today. Trust me, my darling, we can afford it.”  
  
Hermione grinned, “of course, that makes perfect sense.” She answered Callista loudly, “I’ll need to purchase good storage containers for them and a reliable measuring scoop. Also, a few small strainers, say four, in case we’re making different cups of tea at the same time instead of a pot. Anything I’m forgetting?”  
  
“I assume you have a kettle?” Cass teased.  
  
“We do and Harry managed to salvage his parents' teapot and strainer.”  
  
“Harry Potter?”  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
“So you really do live with him, eh?”  
  
“Yep, he’s practically my brother. I can’t imagine life without Harry as one of my dearest friends.”  
  
Narcissa smiled at Hermione’s response and stepped forward to the counter to collect their items and arrange payment.  
  
“Foolish of me, I was at Gringotts this morning and didn’t take out any gold. Is it still okay for you to send the bill over there for payment or would you prefer I go get some from my vault and pay now?” Narcissa said.  
  
“We can send the bill to your account manager at Gringotts. Is it still Garnjee?”  
  
“Yes, I was happy to find him still handling things there,” Narcissa nodded.  
  
“If you’d rather, truly, I have enough galleons on me today,” Hermione offered.  
  
Callista smiled at Hermione, “Thank you but it’s no matter. It’s just as easy for us to send a bill to Gringotts, you’re the only people who’ve stepped foot in here besides us in the last two weeks. All the rest of our accounts are paid via bills to Gringotts.”  
  
Hermione’s brows were beginning to furrow and she was biting her lip. Narcissa quickly stacked the items they were purchasing together and used a sticking charm to keep them as a group before asking Hermione to put them in her handbag.  
  
“Of course, no problem,” the younger women forced a smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you both and I’m looking forward to dinner at the Manor.”  
  
“Same to you, Hermione,” Cassandra answered, grinning.  
  
“You be good to our Narcissa, here, little Gryffindor,” Callista smirked.  
  
The two shopkeepers waved the other women out the door and then shook their heads at one another.  
  
“I’d have never believed it possible when we met Narcissa five years ago.”  
  
“Oh, my, I couldn’t agree more, Cass! She’s actually happy. Genuinely smiling and happy.”

As the couple headed to a good apparition point so they could go to Andromeda’s, Narcissa debated whether or not to ask why Hermione was upset. She knew she needed to talk about it but, being so unsure what was wrong, she didn’t want to bring it up while walking through Knockturn Alley. Hedging her way to the middle, Narcissa said quietly, “Hermione, dear, I can tell you’re upset about something. When we get to Andromeda’s, before we go inside, I’d like you to tell me what’s wrong. But not here, the walls in Knockturn Alley have eyes and ears.”  
  
Hermione grasped the arm she held a little tighter, “Narcissa,” she breathed, “I really think you’re pretty perfect for me.”  
  
“Oh, my silly lion, you can’t say things like that in public,” Narcissa flushed pink.  
  
“Why is that?”  
  
“Because now all I want to do is take you in my arms and kiss you senseless. And that would be quite improper.”  
  
Hermione kept teasing, “One of these days, you’re going to do it anyway.”  
  
“You’re probably right. But today is not that day. We can Apparate from right here,” Narcissa turned and carefully kissed Hermione, keeping the passion she wanted to share reigned in.  
  
She stepped back and held only the younger woman’s hands, smiled, and took them to Andromeda’s front path.  
  
“Now, two things before we knock on my sister’s door.”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Hermione answered, stepping slowly forward.  
  
“First, I want to kiss you properly and second, I’d like you to tell me what upset you in the shop there at the end.”  
  
Hermione nodded but didn’t speak as she wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s neck and lifted up on her toes to kiss her fiancée. Their lips met hungrily, Narcissa’s hands pressing on Hermione’s lower back, holding her as close as she dared. Hermione’s tongue swiped across Narcissa’s lower lip, drawing a deep groan from them both as Narcissa’s mouth opened to her.  
  
Panting, Hermione pulled back slowly and rested her forehead against Narcissa’s collar bone, “I could do that for days. Kissing you is it’s own kind of magic.”  
  
Hermione’s words sent a shiver up Narcissa’s spine, no one had ever spoken to her that way. “I could say the same to you, Hermione.”  
  
“Second thing,” Hermione sighed and took half a step back, remaining in the circle of Narcissa’s arms, “I haven’t actually contacted Gringotts about how much gold I have or don’t have in my account there. I was part of a spectacularly daring, dangerous, and costly breakin at Gringotts in May and I’m sure that I owe them all of the money I will ever make in my lifetime.” By the time she finished speaking, Hermione’s face was burning red with shame and she could barely glance at Narcissa’s eyes.  
  
“Well, Mione, good thing I already knew about that and knew that the breakin was part of what saved us all from Voldemort and his followers, right?”  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
“I also wanted to speak with you about exactly this. I spent a good amount of time in Gringotts this morning and I may have done something that’s going to anger you for a moment but I want you to hear me out before you react.”  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes, staring at Narcissa then.  
  
“Bogrod, the manager of Gringotts who did survive, by the way, tried to tell me this morning that the three of you owed a sum of four hundred something million galleons to pay for structural and societal repairs to Gringotts. Don’t let go,” Narcissa said quickly when she felt Hermione begin to pull away, “I’m not done, please.”  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and hugged Narcissa instead for a long moment.  
  
“There’s no way we’ll ever be able to pay that off,” hermione said. “That’s just an absurd amount of money. No one has that many galleons.”  
  
“Wellllll...so...he changed his mind with a little encouragement from me. Gringotts accepted seventy-five million galleons this morning as the settlement fee from you and Harry but you have to print a letter of apology in the Daily Prophet.”  
  
“Narcissa, I’m sure you were trying to help but where on earth do you think I’m going to find seventy-five million galleons? And why would you do that without me?”  
  
“I didn’t actually go to Gringotts to do that on purpose, in fact I had forgotten about it until Garnjee mentioned it regarding the new security mandates. I wanted to know how much was in my vault, what Lucius had taken, if Draco had access to the Malfoy family vault and if he had enough money. What I found out is that we have a ridiculous amount of galleons. It’s obscene. Uncomfortable, really. The amount it cost to pay for you and Harry to be cleared with Gringotts will be remade by our holdings on Knockturn Alley, Hogsmead, and the Daily Prophet apparently within a few months.”  
  
“I only have more questions right now.”  
  
“Shall we go inside for tea and discuss this with Andromeda as well? If you’re going to be mad at me, be all the way mad...I’ve already paid it. Garnjee was right. With the hundreds of millions of galleons in the vault, the real estate, the business holdings, the family heirlooms, the artwork, and the jewelry, we won’t even notice that seventy-five million.”  
  
Just as Hermione replied with a boisterous, “Merlin’s pants on fire, Narcissa!” Andromeda opened the door.  
  
“You two going to come inside some time today or keep discussing your finances with the whole of South England?”  
  
“Yes,” Narcissa answered quickly before turning back to Hermione and reaching her hand out, “Hermione, I’m sorry for crossing the line into your personal business without your consent. I didn’t intend to do anything that would harm you. Honestly, the opportunity arose and I wanted it completely cleared up before our wedding happened and our wedding planning got more involved. You’re going to need to be able to go to Gringotts. Please understand that I was truly trying to help you and I’m very sorry for not waiting and talking to you about it before paying the bank. We should make these decisions together when they impact both of us but we should also both be able to have autonomy. I’m sorry for taking that away from you today.”  
  
“Oh, Narcissa,” Hermione sighed, grabbing the outstretched hand and wrapping it around her own back so she could hug the other woman tightly. “You didn’t take away my autonomy. I appreciate your apology and I’m sorry for being ungrateful.” Her face tucked into Narcissa’s neck, Hermione pressed a kiss there before whispering into Narcissa’s ear, “I feel well-cared for. With anyone else I would feel differently, but with you, I feel...just...well-cared for, that’s the best way to say it.”  
  
“Oh, my heavens, get inside, you big mushballs,” Andromeda laughed, Teddy on her hip.

A short time later found the three women sitting comfortably on the well worn couches in the Tonks family room. Teddy was laying on a blanket on the floor, gurgling up at the toys dangling above him, doing his best to get everything possible into his mouth and doing his part to lighten the mood.  
  
“I haven’t seen you two since last Tuesday but from what I’ve seen in the papers, you’ve had quite the busy week! And I can’t decide whether to be hurt or angry that Draco got married and I wasn’t even invited?”  
  
“Well you’re one and one there,” Hermione joked.  
  
“What does that even mean?”  
  
“What my darling fiancée is trying to say is that you’re right that we’ve had quite the busy week but you’ve no reason to be hurt or angry because Draco didn’t really get married. Though, if you tell anyone that we shall never speak to you again,” Narcissa explained to her older sister.  
  
Andromeda simply raised her eyebrows in response to that, surprised at the seriousness she heard from Narcissa.  
  
“No, really, Andy, no one can know what Narcissa just said. As long as everyone believes Draco and Dean are married, they’re safe from the Ministry and it doesn’t matter what actually happened at the ceremony.”  
  
Andromeda just looked back and forth between her sister and her future sister-in-law. “So, if it wasn’t a wedding, what was it and why are people saying it was a wedding? Yesterday’s Prophet listed Dean and Draco as completed or something like that.”  
  
“It was a ceremony in which Draco and Dean pledged to honor and defend one another, keep one another safe, and be true to each other. The words wedding and marriage were never used,” Narcissa clarified. “It was a heavily warded area and only specific people were able to enter. Some people were very intentionally excluded, like you Dromeda, because they were trying to protect both themselves and you.”  
  
“Plausible deniability,” Hermione chimed in.  
  
The sisters both turned and looked at her at the same moment.  
  
“If there are official questions about the ceremony, you can’t report on that which you don’t know. If you weren’t there, you don’t know. So if the Ministry comes round asking about Draco and Dean, all you have to say is that you weren’t invited and you weren’t present. Similarly, Draco and Dean planned the entire event themselves, going so far as to give McGonagall a script to read. They involved no one else in the ceremony giving all attendees their own level of plausible deniability.”  
  
“So if someone asks Lady Longbottom about it, for example, she could just say, she heard from Neville that Dean was getting married so she went along with him. She may comment that it was an unusual ceremony but she’s not likely been to many modern weddings of the younger crowd,” Narcissa explained.  
  
“But still, I missed Draco’s wedding,” Andromeda complained quietly. “I’ve missed so much of his life already because of our upbringing and now I’ve missed this huge event for him.”  
  
“Not his real wedding, sister. This doesn’t even count. He’ll have a real wedding one day with all the pomp and circumstance we can throw at him and I promise you’ll be involved in every step of that one,” Narcissa reached out and patted Andromeda’s knee.  
  
“Besides,” said Hermione, “It was a raucous party and there wouldn’t have been anyone to watch Teddy!”  
  
“Well then what am I to do when you two get married? There'll be no one to watch him then, either!”  
  
“Bring him, of course,” Narcissa laughed, “he’s invited, too, you know.”  
  
Teddy was a good topic to lighten the conversation and Narcissa and Hermione asked all manner of questions about him so Andromeda could proudly boast.  
  
Eventually, of course, the conversation turned back to their wedding, though.  
  
“Oh, we have chosen a location actually and it’s stunning,” Hermione answered.  
  
“Achnagairn,” Narcissa said.  
  
“No,” Andy was surprised. “Are you inviting people overnight?”  
  
“We are,” Hermione nodded, smiling ear to ear. “Our wedding is actually on a Monday evening so it works out well for Amalia and Samuel and we book the castle and grounds for Monday and Tuesday, though we’ll probably go up on Sunday, right?”  
  
“I imagine so. Maybe with a few others. Andromeda, you and Teddy are welcome to join us up there Sunday. It’ll likely be Draco and Dean and Harry as well.”  
  
“That sounds lovely, I’ll plan on it. Anything else set? Photographer, invitations, rings?”  
  
“Invitations, yes,” Hermione nodded and then explained their Friday excursion. “Well, you saw our Announcement on Saturday, yes?”  
  
“In the Daily and the Evening Prophet, yes,” Andy smirked. “Is that where you’re getting your invites printed?”  
  
Narcissa nodded.  
  
“The Announcement was gorgeous, ladies. Those photographs, I don’t know who took them but they were beautiful. You both looked amazing but also very real, you know what I mean?”  
  
Hermione blushed and leaned over to rest her head on Narcissa’s shoulder, “thank you, Andy. It was such a wonderful day together. I can’t wait to have more time to go on holiday.”  
  
“Mmm, I know, darling,” Narcissa kissed the top of Hermione’s head and rested her hand on the younger woman’s leg, “we have to start planning a honeymoon now if we’re going to take one right after the wedding, you know.”  
  
Andromeda’s eyebrows just about hit the ceiling watching the two of them together. She’d assumed when she saw the photos in the Prophet that they were just well staged but it was obvious to her now that Narcissa and Hermione weren’t just playing house anymore. “I have to say, ladies. This is not what I was expecting last week when I mentioned you might make a good team.”  
  
Startled out of their own conversation, the couple looked at Andy, surprised, and Hermione let Narcissa speak, “I’m sure it’s not. Honestly, Dromeda, I don’t think it’s what we were truly expecting either but, it’s just so right for us. We decided that, even though a few people obviously know our story isn’t true, we’re going to live as though it is. So, last May, when I was going through all of those meetings with the Ministry and testifying at the Wizengamot I would spend time here, with you.”  
  
“And I would come here, also, with Harry, to see his Godson, Teddy. And Narcissa and I got to talking when we were here.”  
  
Andy interrupted, “I’m the only one who knows you were never here the same days?”  
  
The couple nodded before Narcissa continued, “then, in June, when my marriage was dissolved, Hermione and I started meeting for lunches and dinners away from here and away from the wizarding community to continue to get to know each other better and with more autonomy. Away from prying eyes.”  
  
“And the rest is our own, private, history...until our request to the Ministry on Wednesday and our Engagement Announcement on Saturday.”  
  
“We make a great pair, Hermione and I. We both wish that our relationship had had the opportunity to develop slowly the way we just told you but we’re also happy together with our story just the way it is.”  
  
“And either way. We’re still getting married on December the twenty-first. Three months-”  
  
“And two weeks. But who’s counting,” Narcissa looked at Hermione, smiling.  
  
“We are,” Hermione finished, leaning in to press a kiss to Narcissa’s perfect lips.  
  
Andromeda smiled, a hint of tears shining in her happy eyes, and pulled out a large, flat cardboard box from behind her chair. “I’m so happy to see both of you feeling like this. Go ahead and open it.”  
  
Hermione grinned and let Narcissa break the tape and lift the lid. Inside the box was a beautiful calendar designed to be a wedding planner. As the women opened the cover they saw there were little stickers of dresses, cakes, gifts, and more to put on different days. There were even removable checklists in the back and ink sets with two different groups of complementary colors so they could both use it and keep their information separate but in the same place.  
  
Narcissa was openly crying. “Andromeda, I can’t thank you enough. You introduced us, you encouraged this to happen in the first place and I’ve never looked forward to anything the way I’m looking forward to marrying Hermione. This is perfect.” She stood and hugged her older sister tightly.  
  
“I’ve missed you so much through the years, Cissa. I want to help you plan this, be there when you make the big decisions, if you’d like.”  
  
Narcissa started to nod then looked back at Hermione, questioning silently. Hermione, of course, agreed as well.  
  
“That would be wonderful, Andy. You’re the only one with wedding planning experience of the three of us! Please, keep us on track!”  
  
Laughing they all sat back down and Andy helped them get rid of the box and set the calendar up on the table. They immediately took out the checklists and started penciling things into the calendar with dates they wanted to have them done by. They spent the afternoon happily passing Teddy around between them all and planning dress shopping - the three of them would go together but Hermione and Narcissa wouldn’t be allowed to look at one another, ring shopping - Andromeda was only tagging along to keep them from spending every knut in the vault on their rings, and honeymoon planning - Andromeda was happy to introduce them to a lovely travel planner she knew.  
  
As the day shifted into evening and Teddy started to fuss for dinner, Hermione and Narcissa decided it was time to take their leave. They said their goodbyes and stepped outside to Apparate.  
  
“Would you like to come back to the Manor with me for dinner?”  
  
“That sounds delightful. I’d love to,” Hermione agreed, stepping into Narcissa’s personal space and wrapping her arms around the taller woman’s waist. “But kiss me first, it’s been far too long.”  
  
Narcissa smirked and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of Hermione’s nose.  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Hermione laughed.  
  
“Precision of language.” Narcissa stepped away, leaving Hermione dumbstruck.  
  
“That’s...Narcissa,” Hermione stared at the woman, “that’s from my favorite book. How did you? Is that just a coincidence?”  
  
Narcissa tilted her head, smiling softly at the younger woman as she pulled her closer once again. “No, Mione, it’s no coincidence. You told me last Tuesday that it was your favorite book, so, naturally, I read it.”  
  
Narcissa had never in her life been hugged as tightly as Hermione hugged her in that moment.  
  
“Narcissa,” Hermione whispered, “that is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice an error, feel free to let me know. I'm reading my own work for continuity mistakes and I don't always catch them.


	17. ...and don't let go

Hermione walked into the kitchen Tuesday morning with her arms full of all the items she had purchased at the tea shop the day before.  
  
Harry smiled at her and asked after it all when she dropped it on the table.  
  
“Oh, Harry there’s a great little tea shop on Knockturn Alley and I got all this wonderful stuff there yesterday! Look through it while I pour myself a cup,” she said grinning back at him.  
  
“Knockturn Alley? Is that where you went after Eeylops?”  
  
She sat at the table with him, sorting through her purchases, and explained that they had gone for some ginger tea to soothe Narcissa’s stomach after Hermione had explained about Charity Burbage’s son.  
  
“She really didn’t know?”  
  
“Harry, there’s so much about the last year of the war that Narcissa knows nothing about and I think, if we truly discussed the whole timeline with her, it’s more like two years, at least. She had no knowledge of the battle at the Ministry when Sirius died, she doesn’t remember Lucius being in Azkaban. I honestly don’t even understand how she was at the Battle of Hogwarts. She had been basically imprisoned for who knows how long before that. Who knows, Harry! Why did they bring her?”  
  
“I don’t know, Hermione. Have you asked her?”  
  
“No, I can’t. I have to but I just can’t bring myself to say, ‘gee, Narcissa, darling, I know they locked you in a room and messed with your mind, whyever did they set you free just so you could bring about the fall of the Dark Lord?’ Sounds absurd, right?”  
  
Laughing, Harry agreed, “well, when you say it that way, it does! Hermione, the two of you have obviously had a lot of deep conversations over the past week. Certainly you can find a way to ask her how she was able to leave the room she was locked up in.”  
  
Hermione knew Harry was right and said as much. “I just feel guilty bringing it up. It was such a terrible time for her, I don’t like to make her think about it.”  
  
Harry nodded in understanding, appreciating how much Hermione cared about Narcissa.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Harry chuckled and said, “Okay, out with it, Hermione.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You always hide behind your cup when you have bad news. Just say it.”  
  
Hermione quickly lowered her cup, making a mental note to be more aware of her habits. “I, ugh, okay, yesterday, Narcissa went to Gringotts.”  
  
“Right, then we saw her at Eeylops.”  
  
Hermione nodded and continued at a blistering pace, “While she was at Gringotts, the topic of our escapade in May came up and Narcissa, not expecting to have been put in that situation and having just found out she had an insanely gigantic amount of gold in her vault, negotiated on our behalf to pay our debt to Gringotts and all we have to do is write an apology and have it printed in the Prophet and then we’re back in good standing with Gringotts moving forward.”  
  
“She paid our debt?”  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
“She didn’t have to do that. I would have paid it myself, I just hadn’t brought myself to contact them yet. I still feel terrible that Griphook was killed.”  
  
“Truly, she can afford it. I think she was more concerned with taking care of things before our wedding or wedding planning got any more involved. There’s a lot going on for us in the next few months and she didn’t want the thought of a debt to Gringotts hanging over our heads. But you and I still have to take care of the apology, can we work on that?”  
  
“Of course, I’ll get some parchment.”  
  
A moment later, the two friends sat staring at the blank parchment, a quill and inkpot nearby.  
  
Harry took a sip of his tea.  
  
Hermione drummed her fingers on the table.  
  
Harry inspected one of the new tea strainers Hermione had purchased.  
  
“Right, so this is not as easy as I thought it would be. Let’s look at it like it’s an essay for school. What is the topic?”  
  
“Our apology?”  
  
“Right and the evidence to support our topic?”  
  
“Er, that we, well, Narcissa, paid them off?”  
  
Hermione laughed at that, “No, it can’t be that we paid them. The seventy-five million galleons covered the costs of the repair due to the structural damage we caused. Also, it actually only covered two-thirds of the cost. Narcissa did not pay Ron’s part.”  
  
“You know he’ll never be able to pay that, Mione. He’s given all his money to his parents already, I think.”  
  
Hermione looked out the window for a long moment before speaking again, “Harry, this is going to be an odd question but do you know how much money the Ministry gave us? Don’t ever tell anyone I’m even asking, I just, I have no idea. I wasn’t expecting it and I didn’t really pay much attention to it other than to know, there’s enough there to pay our rent each month and cover the grocer’s bills and such. Shameful, I know, but I’ve just been embarrassed to go to Gringotts.”  
  
“Please don’t be angry but they gave us each a different amount, I think,” he answered, wincing.  
  
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione answered, squeezing his hand, “I’m not angry! You literally gave your life for us. How could I be angry? I didn’t expect any money at all, I’m grateful for whatever it is, I just want to have some idea.”  
  
“It’s my understanding, from the ceremony we all attended this summer, that Ron received twenty million galleons for his bravery in battle. You received forty million galleons for, basically being yourself,” Harry teased.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It was something like your constant quick-thinking and ability to keep calm and rational in every situation we faced. And I received sixty million for, I don’t know, stupidly fighting Voldemort over and over again.”  
  
Hermione grasped his hand once more, “Harry. You sacrificed yourself for us. You saved us. We will never be able to calculate how many lives were saved by your actions. Now, as your best friend, I never, ever, _ever_ want you to do that again...but you deserve every bit of thanks that’s been sent your way.”  
  
The two of them sipped their tea and let their emotions settle when Hermione suddenly burst out with, “oh! I know what they did!”  
  
Harry just shrugged, laughing, and said, “of course, you do.”  
  
“Gringotts is surely aware of how many galleons we each received. Narcissa paid seventy-five million galleons to cover you and I, not Ron. She didn’t pay two thirds of the restitution. She paid five sixths.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“Harry! Think about it! You and I together received five-sixths of the money awarded to the Golden Trio by the Ministry. Gringotts isn’t about to split things evenly amongst people. They understand, better than anyone, the economic disparity that exists in the wizarding world. They’ve charged each of us a hefty amount for sure, but not an equal amount, an equal percentage. Seventy-five percent of our reward money, to be exact.”  
  
“So, Ron owes what, less than twenty million?”  
  
“I think we should write up this apology, deliver it to the Prophet, and then go to Gringotts ourselves and pay Ron’s share. Judging by the hints Narcissa was dropping yesterday, I’m never going to miss that gold.”  
  
Harry looked excited for a moment and then leaned back in his chair frowning. “I don’t know Hermione, Ron hates to be leant money. He gets very angry about it and uncomfortable when it comes up.”  
  
“Maybe we can just pay most of his part of the restitution then. Leave him a million to pay on his own? That’s an awful lot of galleons for him to pay, so much he won’t even think it’s not the whole thing,” Hermione folded her arms, smirking.  
  
“Has Narcissa grown braver?”  
  
Hermione squinted and looked away for a moment. “I’m sorry, what?”  
  
“You’ve got the Slytherin cunning down pat so I’m just wondering if Narcissa’s picked up the Gryffindor bravery, too,” Harry teased. “Yes, I think your plan is sound. Let’s write this apology and be on our way. I’m sure you have a Lady to see about a wedding.” He nudged her with his elbow. Standing, he began to find places to store all the tea supplies Hermione had purchased.  
  
She picked up the quill and could hardly begin, she simply didn’t know where to start.  
  
“Okay, how about we apologize to Gringotts and the whole community? Like this; Harry and I are writing to make clear to the wizarding community an incident that occurred last spring. While we were trying to bring about the downfall of Voldemort, we hatched an outlandish plan. One that required the use of an Unforgivable Curse and disguises and ultimately ended up costing the institution of Gringotts millions of galleons. Not only did our foolhardy plan damage Gringotts itself, but, in Voldemort’s anger at our success, he also killed a number of Goblins, all employees at Gringotts. We are sorry that our plan cost those Goblins their lives but we had no other choice. We have already paid back the cost of repairs to Gringotts. We hope the Goblin community can forgive us and hope that the witches and wizards of Britain continue to patronize Gringotts as there is still nowhere safer for your gold.”  
  
Harry clapped, “That sounds good. Do you want to run it past Narcissa first? Make sure it sounds right to her?”  
  
“Actually, I do. Do you mind? I’ll just go get dressed and then pop over there for a minute.”  
  
“I’ll meet you back here when you’re done!” he shouted after her as she bounded up the stairs.

“Narcissa?” Hermione said loudly, stepping out of the fireplace in the sitting room at Black Manor.  
  
Instead of her fiancée, Pepper appeared, “Hello, Hermione Granger! Should Pepper get Mistress Black?”  
  
“Hi, Pepper! How are you?” Hermione asked, kneeling down in front of the little elf.  
  
“Pepper is great! Pepper learned how to make sleepy milk! Pepper will get Mistress Black!” and the elf popped out of sight as quickly as she had appeared.  
  
Laughing at Pepper’s obvious excitement, Hermione wondered what sleepy milk was and who taught Pepper how to make it while she waited for Narcissa. Hermione was a bit nervous, it was the first time she had used the Floo unexpectedly and she hoped it was okay.  
  
“Hermione,” she heard called from the foyer. When she walked that way, though, she didn’t see anyone. “I’m here, Hermione,” Narcissa said, smiling, at the top of the stairs. “Come on up, I’m just getting ready for the day.”  
  
Hermione’s eyes were trained on Narcissa as she climbed the stairs toward her, taking in the unbuttoned blouse over the black camisole, the well-tailored black silk pants, and the painted toenails on Narcissa’s bare feet. A huge smile on her face, Narcissa finished putting in her last earring as Hermione reached her, leaning in without hesitation to meet for a kiss and trailing her fingers down the younger woman’s cheek.  
  
“I guess it’s okay that I used the fireplace to get here? I mean, without checking first?”  
  
Narcissa didn’t answer, she frowned a little and stepped back.  
  
“Narcissa?” Hermione asked, more quietly.  
  
“Hermione...come with me so I can finish what I was doing,” it was a little colder than usual.  
  
Hermione’s stomach dropped, she did not at all like the sound of Narcissa’s voice in that moment.  
  
“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry I interrupted. Harry and I were drafting our apology to Gringotts and I had hoped, actually Harry suggested first, that we ask if you wouldn’t mind reading it over before we submit it,” Hermione said with false cheer, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed the distinct chill in Narcissa’s tone.  
  
“Hmm. So. You want me to check your homework?” Narcissa said unkindly as she sat back down in front of her mirror.  
  
Hermione’s jaw dropped...it may have actually hit the floor, it fell so spectacularly. “What?”  
  
Narcissa finished her eyeliner with a steady hand before taking a deep breath and turning sharply to Hermione, “Well, what else am I supposed to think? You constantly act as though I’m going to shout at you or hex you. Like I’m the one with all the power in this relationship. And now you want me to proofread your apology before you hand it in like I’m some transfiguration tutor.”  
  
“I...it wasn’t...it’s not like that. You’re just so smart and well spoken and Harry suggested and i agreed and I’m sorry if-”  
  
“Did you really think I’d be upset that you used the private Floo network _**I**_ suggested we utilize between our houses? That’s preposterous, Hermione. If you think I’m that ill tempered and cruel why are we getting married. This is just...ugh! What if I had used the Floo to pop over this morning? What if I showed up half an hour ago in your living room to ask your opinion on which shirt I should wear today?”  
  
“I’d have been happy,” Hermione replied in a tiny voice, “I’d have invited you into the kitchen for tea and read the paper with you and hoped we could spend the day together.”  
  
“And that is exactly how I felt when Pepper told me you were here. Excited. Hopeful. Happy. Now I feel…” Narcissa just shook her head and looked back into the mirror. “Foolish.”  
  
Hermione’s hands pressed against her stomach, she struggled not to gasp. “Narcissa, no. I’m sorry but I just wanted to make sure it was okay.”  
  
“I’m sorry if...I’m sorry but...Hermione, those aren’t apologies. They’re equivocations. Leave your note to Gringotts, I’ll look it over and owl it back when I’m done.”  
  
“Please, I’m sorry you’re upset, just, talk to me. Help me understand.”  
  
Narcissa swallowed hard past the lump in throat. “Not right now. I can’t do this right now. You’re right, I am upset. I tend to lash out when I’m upset. I’m trying very hard to keep my temper in check and not say something I don’t mean. Leave your note to Gringotts, Hermione. I’ll look it over and owl it back when I'm done.” Narcissa moved away from the mirror and instead stood at the window that looked out over the grounds of Black Manor, watching Hermione’s reflection, trying not to cry. She watched as Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. She watched as, a moment later, she took a few steps toward Narcissa.  
  
“Just go, Hermione.”  
  
Starting to do just that, Hermione turned back at the doorway to explain one thing, “I, um, I don’t really know if there’s a way around it because we’re,” she stopped and held her breath for a moment, willing herself not to start crying, “who we are to one another but I have a post box at the Owl Post Office in Diagon Alley. Of course, Paionia is more than welcome to come to the flat. I just don’t actually know the magic around Owl Post.” Hermione rushed out, the tears unstoppable.  
  
Harry was sitting on the couch when Hermione returned, a smile on his face. It quickly morphed to a look of horror.  
  
“Hermione? Where’s Narcissa?”  
  
“She’s not coming. She has our apology to Gringotts, which I have a very strong suspicion is not adequate, and she will take a look at it and owl it back to us when she’s done. I’m terribly sorry. I don’t feel like going out anymore. I’m going to go back upstairs and put sweats on and mope,” she sniffled, still crying just a little.  
  
“First, tell me what happened. You were so excited to go see her. Do I need to go kick some arse?”  
  
That got a snort out of Hermione, though it did come with a quick denial of Narcissa having done anything wrong at all. “I need a minute, Harry, okay?”  
  
He nodded and watched as she moved to the window, still trying to reign in her tears, breath catching with the effort. He waited her out. Harry had known Hermione for seven years, he was well acquainted with her need for silence to get her thoughts in order.  
  
Finally, she spoke quietly from behind him, “I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, Harry, and instead of saying that to Narcissa out loud, I question everything. I assume she has, like, ulterior motives when there are none. I immediately offer her an opportunity to back out of this instead of saying ‘we’ll get through it together’ whenever there’s a hint of adversity.”  
  
“Hermione, to be fair, she offers you an opportunity to back out, too. I’ve heard it myself.”  
  
“Yes. That’s true. But she does it when she thinks she’s bad for me. I do it...I don’t know...all the time? I guess?”  
  
Harry patted the cushion next to him, “Come sit with me.” When Hermione dropped down and flopped back he smiled at her sadly, “Hermione, listen. I think you need to talk to Narcissa. Have you really explained this to her?”  
  
Hermione shrugged silently.  
  
“No. Don’t shrug at me. Seriously. You need to tell her every single thing you just said. Do you really not think she’s picked up on your stress yet? And you’re headed into an intense three months of planning what I’m sure is going to be a huge wedding while taking eight NEWT classes and deciding what you’re going to do after you get eight Outstandings. Hermione, don’t forget, I’ve lived through school stress with you. I love you but it’s not pretty. Don’t you think you should tell her about how that anxiety affects you? And, truly, is already affecting you?”  
  
Hermione dropped her head back and groaned, folding one arm up across her eyes. She felt Harry get up for a moment and then sit back down. “I know you’re right, it’s just a hard thing to do. Who wants to admit to this amazing human who is strong and brilliant and beautiful and perfect that they’re really a weak mess of anxiety and nerves. Narcissa has lived through true terror, Harry. She faced down the Dark Lord and lied to him. Planning our wedding is exciting and I am literally thrilled to do every single part of it, how do I explain that all this stress - the good and the bad - adds up inside of me to make me feel insecure about everything in my life?”  
  
“Just like that, my darling,” Narcissa said, reaching her arm behind Hermione to pull the other woman into her side.  
  
Hermione didn’t speak. She just kept her eyes closed and turned sideways to rest her head on Narcissa’s shoulder, she slid one arm behind Narcissa’s back and the other fell across her waist to hug her.  
  
“Hermione,” Narcissa whispered after a few minutes, “can I say something?”  
  
“Mmhmm.”  
  
“I tend to be very easily irritated when I’m tired or upset or hurt and my instinct is always to close off my emotions. It often makes me appear quite cold and detached. I’m afraid that’s a holdover from growing up the way I did. This morning, when you questioned whether it was acceptable for you to use the Floo network to come over uninvited as it were, it pushed my buttons. I felt as if we had already been over that and it irritated me for a moment to reassure you once again that I welcome you into my home and my life.” Narcissa stopped talking, took a deep breath and blew it all out, and then spoke again. “I am so sorry, Hermione, that I reacted that way. I’m sorry for being cold instead of understanding. What I’m most sorry for - and upset about - is that instead of realizing that we’re both in this new relationship and we both have uncertainties and faults and need a little extra support, I shut down. Instead of reaching out to hold you and tell you that, of course, I meant it and you truly can Floo to the Manor any time at all, and that I will remind you of that any time you need to hear it...I stepped away from you. I’m sorry.”  
  
Hermione tried to absorb everything Narcissa said, “Thank you, Narcissa, for being so honest with me about how you felt this morning and where it came from.”  
  
Narcissa, still feeling unsettled and like her heart was in a vice, couldn't answer.  
  
“Can I explain now?” Hermione asked.  
  
Nodding, Narcissa let the tears she was holding back fall, knowing Hermione couldn’t see them.  
  
“I don’t handle stress well. I think that’s obvious. That’s why I need to make plans for everything. I need to make lists and write things down. The calendar at Andy’s was a very good start but, honestly, to feel like the wedding planning is in hand, I need to sit down with every calendar and suggestion and list in front of me and organize it myself. That’s why I had to send those owls yesterday to the professors. I need things to be in order. When there’s more going on than I can control, when all the stressors - good and bad - are building up, I feel very unsure about…”  
  
“About what, Hermione?”  
  
“Everything. I second guess every single thing in my life. Narcissa, I’m sorry for not believing you the first time you told me I could use the Floo whenever I wanted. I’m sorry for not being honest about my level of anxiety. I, um, I’ll try to, um, make sure I talk to you when I start to feel anxious and unsure next time instead of just, like, asking the same things over and over.”  
  
Narcissa shifted to pull Hermione’s face up to her own and kiss her fiancée.  
  
“Mione, if you need to be reassured about something in life, I want it to be me you come to for that reassurance.”  
  
“I just keep feeling like the other shoe is going to drop, Narcissa. I don’t know how much you heard of what I was saying before but I just keep worrying that one of these days you’re going to realize that I’m not the person you want to spend your life with. So, every time something happens that might make this challenging, I assume it’ll be the thing that makes you say you don’t want this anymore. So, adding that constant worry to the rest of the stress that I’m carrying is making me second guess everything.” Narcissa took a breath to speak but Hermione spoke again quickly before she could, “And I want to be able to say to you, ‘it’s okay, Cissa, we’ll get through it together’ but instead I say things like ‘I understand if you don’t want to this’ even though I don’t want to say that.”  
  
“Hermione,” Narcissa kissed her again and smiled a small, supportive smile, “this is so manageable.”  
  
“What?” Hermione exhaled hard. No one had ever said something like that to her.  
  
Narcissa hugged Hermione as tightly as she could, “No, really, hear me out.”  
  
“Go ahead, I'm all ears,” Hermione sat up and turned towards Narcissa. She pulled her feet up to sit cross legged and held Narcissa’s hand between her own.  
  
“Okay, let’s start with the easiest things we can manage. We’ll set up a study for you at the Manor and have a wedding table in the study with the calendar and wedding lists. You can have all your Hogwarts materials in there, too, and a desk and anything else you think you’ll need to help you manage your lists. We’ll choose one of the rooms near the sitting room so you know you can Floo in and out without worry.”  
  
“Really? I can have a room in the Manor?”  
  
“Of cour-, I mean to say, you absolutely can. Next. This is going to take some work and focus on our parts but we can do it. If you notice yourself feeling anxious or uncertain, you have to try to talk to me about it. I want very badly to be able to help you manage your stress but if you hide it, I can’t. If I notice you seem uncertain, I’m going to do my best to be supportive and remind you of whatever it is you need to feel more secure about whether it’s how much I’m looking forward to being married to you or how impressed I am with your willingness to fight for what’s right or even if it’s just reminding you that you are always, every moment of every day, welcome in my home and my life.”  
  
Hermione nodded, deeply grateful that Narcissa was taking such an active role in mitigating her anxiety. “This is what my parents were like,” Hermione said suddenly. “I remember my mum, right before Christmas one year, was worried because all four of my grandparents were coming together for the holiday. My dad just kept telling her how beautiful she had made his life and how happy our home was and how she made it feel like such a joyful Christmastime in our house. She must’ve needed the reassurance, too.” Hermione smiled a bit.  
  
“And he gave it to her. Because that’s what people do in healthy relationships...or so I’ve read,” Narcissa smirked.  
  
“And you, Narcissa, if you notice yourself feeling poorly you have to try to tell me so I know not to push your buttons and instead to just...care for you.”  
  
“If I don’t say something and I start acting coldly, don’t you stand for it. You let me know if you can. Tell me I’m detaching, okay?”  
  
“Earlier, you physically stepped away from me. It was the first hint that something was wrong. Next time it happens, maybe I’ll just reach out and take your hand in mine.”  
  
They held one another’s eyes for a long moment, an understanding passed between them. They weren’t just planning a wedding, they were planning a life.  
  
“Yes, Hermione, just take my hand in yours...and don’t let go.”


	18. Hurting and Healing

“Hermione?” Narcissa said quietly, her hand still rubbing the other woman’s back.

“Yes, I’m awake,” Hermione answered, her voice equally soft.

“Would you like to go over your apology for Gringotts? Then it can be dropped off at The Prophet and you and Harry can get on with whatever you were planning to do after?”

“Do you think we should bring a copy to Gringotts, as well?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Hermione sat up, “would you like to join us? Or meet us for lunch afterward?” Her voice was a little higher pitched than usual, less sure of herself.

Narcissa weighed her options. She wanted to spend the day with Hermione, get themselves feeling like they were back on solid ground...on the other hand, she knew it was important for Hermione to spend time with her friends.

“Maybe I’ll go with you to the Daily Prophet, I wanted to stop in the office there and inquire about certain goings on now that I know I’m one of the owners. But maybe you and Harry should go to Gringotts alone?”

“Okay, sure. No lunch then?”

“Why don’t you check with Harry first? He might just want to have lunch with you, Hermione, you’re his friend.”

Hermione tried to smile and nod in agreement but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Let’s just go over the apology first.”

“Of course, here it is,” Narcissa leaned forward to pick it up from the table in front of them. “I, perhaps, changed too much. I made corrections right on the parchment you brought so you could see what I did.”

“Thank you, that was smart, let me just read it over.” Hermione scanned the page, realizing Narcissa’s word choices themselves were more mature than her own. “I think,” she said after finishing, “I need to work on my apologizing.”

Narcissa bit her lip, “I don’t mean to offend you but I think you do, too. When you wrote ‘We are sorry that our plan cost those Goblins their lives but we had no other choice’ what you’re saying is ‘We think the lives of those Goblins were acceptable collateral damage for retrieving the object we were after and we take no blame for their deaths’ and I don’t believe you really think that, do you?”

“No! No, of course not. I really am sorry all those Goblins were murdered because of our break in.”

“That’s why I changed that sentence. It’s important, Hermione, when we apologize that we do it meaningfully. Acknowledge that we’ve done something wrong, for example, I was quite cold to you this morning and it was unkind. Admit that we regret the action, I’m sorry I shut down and made you feel anxious. Commit to making a different choice in the same situation, next time I notice that I’m getting irritated I’ll talk to you about it instead of pulling away. And ask forgiveness, can you please forgive me, Hermione for the way I treated you this morning, I’ll do my best to never do it again.”

“I understand,” Hermione nodded. “I’m sure I’ll need you to remind me of that occasionally, but I do understand.”

“And you forgive me?”

“And I forgive you. Let me just get Harry back in here to read this over and then, we can go.” Hermione quickly stepped away but stopped and turned back when she got to the doorway. “Um, actually, Narcissa, there’s one other thing I should tell you.” 

Taking a deep breath first, Narcissa bit her lip before nodding.

“Harry and I are planning to make most of Ron’s restitution payment for him. The Weasleys have never had much money and, we don’t think Ron kept all of the twenty million he got for himself. If, um, if that’s not okay...” Hermione trailed off, tilting her head back against the doorframe and looking at the ceiling. “Narcissa?” She started again in nearly a whisper.

“What is it, darling?”

“I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

Narcissa immediately stood up and moved over to Hermione, “I’m very thankful that you said something. Can you take a deep breath and think through what it is that’s overwhelming you right this instant?” She grasped Hermione’s hands and held them between their bodies.

“I feel like you’re going to think I’m being irresponsible with money if I pay five million galleons of what Ronald’s supposed to pay. We’re planning a wedding, a huge wedding, that’s quite likely going to be extremely expensive. I shouldn’t be throwing money at Ron, I should be talking to you about it and making sure I have enough for our wedding and our honeymoon and our lives after that.”

Narcissa waited until Hermione opened her eyes and looked into Narcissa’s own before asking, “Hermione, is it okay if I hug you right now?”

“Oh, Narcissa, of course,” Hermione opened her arms to the other woman, “you never need to ask. Never. I will always want you to hug me.”

With her arms wrapped around Hermione’s waist and the other woman’s face pressed into her neck, Narcissa spoke quickly and quietly, “Hermione, listen to me. You have every right to spend money however you wish. I paid for Harry and you, not Ron. It was not unintentional. If word came back to anyone that I had paid the restitution fees, I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying to buy the Weasleys off. If you and Harry want to pay Ron’s part of it, you should. However he may have angered you these past months, you’ve been friends for seven years and that does count for something. If I may be so bold, you should feel free to pay the whole of Ron’s fee and let Harry keep his money. I think perhaps we ought to take a trip to Gringotts together, perhaps I can meet you there after you and Harry are done?”

“You can just come with us from the Prophet,” Hermione said, her voice muffled because she stayed pressed against Narcissa.

“I could...but maybe it would be better if you and Harry went without me? You are a strong, fiercely independent woman, Hermione. Don’t lose that because of us. Your independence is one of the things I most respect about you.”

Smiling against Narcissa’s neck, Hermione placed a slow, open mouthed kiss on the skin there and then leaned back to thank Narcissa. “I’ll go get Harry now. Be back in a moment,” she kissed Narcissa properly and left in search of Harry.

He was only in the kitchen, wanting to be nearby in case they needed something.

“Harry, come on, Narcissa and I talked about...what happened. We’re okay. She made some changes to the apology we wrote, come have a look and then we can take it to the Prophet and the bank. Yeah?”

His friend had clearly been crying some more but appeared to be in better spirits than she had been just a little while earlier.

“Alright then, if you’re sure,” Harry followed her back to the sitting room.

“I’ll read it to you, it says, we, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger, are writing to make clear to the wizarding community an incident that occured last spring. While we were working to bring about the downfall of Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he preferred to be called, we hatched a dangerous plan. One that required the use of shameful spells and dishonesty and ultimately ended up costing the institution of Gringotts an untold sum of money. Not only did our foolhardy plan damage an historic building but, in Riddle’s anger at our success in moving one step closer to his demise, he also killed a number of Goblins, all employees at Gringotts. We are so sorry for this. We are sorry that our plan cost those Goblins their lives. We are sorry that we caused damage to Gringotts itself. We were wrong to execute that plan without attempting to work with the Goblins of Gringotts to protect lives and prevent the damage we caused. Gringotts has graciously agreed to work with us to determine a reasonable restitution so that no one has to pay for those repairs but us. We ask the forgiveness of the Goblin community and hope that the witches and wizards of Britain continue to patronize Gringotts as there is still nowhere safer for your valuables than a Gringotts vault.”

“Narcissa. That’s brilliant.”

“Just a few word changes, Harry.”

“No, Narcissa, you have a real gift for language. That was quite carefully crafted, I’m very impressed. Thank you for your help,” Hermione leaned in and kissed the other woman slowly.

“You’re both very welcome. Are you going to re-write it so it’s legible before we go? And maybe contact Ron and let him know you’ve taken care of most of his third of the restitution?”

“I’ll go get parchment. Harry, you explain the money,” Hermione bossed.

Narcissa merely raised her eyebrows.

“Hermione realized earlier that the seventy-five million galleons you paid, thank you for that, by the way, wasn’t actually two thirds of the amount Gringotts wanted. It was five sixths.”

“Five sixths? Why? Though I did wonder why the total was such an unusual figure.”

“They didn’t split the damages - or the amount they want - by three because we can’t all afford to pay the same amount of money. They looked at the money we were awarded this summer and charged each of us the same percentage of that. So, I was given sixty million galleons, Hermione, forty million, and Ron, twenty. Hermione’s theory is that I then owed Gringotts forty-five million, Hermione owed thirty million, and Ron fifteen million.”

“Exactly,” Hermione chimed in, kneeling at the coffee table to copy the apology onto two clean sheets of parchment with her best quill and ink. “Gringotts understands, better than anyone, the enormous wealth disparity in the wizarding community. And even though you and I are about to get married and, I guess they could have been manipulative and said I owed more because I would soon have access to your money - oh! Which I’m not, like, assuming or anything - they didn’t do that because the restitution amount should have been set long before we announced our engagement or news of our relationship hit the wire.”

“Very astute, Hermione. You’re so brilliant,” Narcissa smiled.

“Actually,” Harry smirked, “she’s just highly logical which allows her to look past extraneous detail and perceive clearly that which others overlook.”

“Yes, well, ‘you’re so logical’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Narcissa said dryly, “And logical or not, I still think you’re brilliant.”

“Well, thank you. When Harry, Ron, and I were on the run, one night I was cutting Harry’s hair - a task which no one should ever entrust to me - and I realized something or other. Harry called me brilliant. And I countered with that bit about being logical.”

“The ‘something or other’ she realized? Out of the clear blue, Hermione remembered that the Sword of Gryffindor is goblin-made and all of this information about the properties of goblin-made silver, meaning it was able to defeat the horcruxes we needed to destroy. It was a huge turning point for knowing what we needed to do after that,” Harry explained further.

“See? Brilliant. Harry and I agree, darling. No use fighting it,” Narcissa smiled, not expecting the sad look that passed between the other two. “What am I missing?”

“Just after Hermione’s revelation, literally moments later, the night turned quite sour. It ended up being one of the worst nights of the entire year,” Harry said gravely.

When it became clear Narcissa still didn’t understand, Hermione spoke up from her seat on the floor, “Ron left. He, um, he was having a hard time with the whole thing. We were taking it in turns to wear Slytherin’s locket and it was affecting us all badly. Ron was facing his own jealousy every time Harry and I spoke. While we were excited to know we could use the sword, he was furious. It was one more thing added to this list of tasks and it seemed insurmountable. We had a huge row, the three of us, and he left. Middle of this huge rainstorm, late at night, no way to find us again, he left.”

To say Narcissa was shocked would have been a gross understatement. She was no longer surprised that Hermione struggled with their friendship. Though the younger woman might not admit it, loyalty was one of the most important traits to her, that had been clear to Narcissa for years. “What? How? That’s not part of the story the public heard.”

“Of course, not.” Hermione shrugged. “Who is served by knowing Ron couldn’t cut it on the run? Would it have helped him? His family? The public? The Ministry knows, the Death Eaters knew, but we didn’t tell anyone else.”

Silently deciding she and Hermione had their whole future to discuss their pasts, Narcissa said honestly, “You are two of the kindest, most loyal people I have ever been lucky enough to know. I am so deeply appreciative that my son and I can now call both of you friends.”

Hermione just looked at Narcissa and smiled while Harry answered, “I feel the same way about you.”

For a few pleasant minutes, the only sound was the scratching of Hermione’s quill on the parchment and the occasional tap of the tip against the inkpot.

“Okay, I’m finished,” Hermione said, “can each of you proofread one? I just want to change my, um, shirt, I’m just uncomfortable. Be right back!” She grinned and ran upstairs.

Narcissa and Harry looked at one another. “She’s not changing her shirt, is she?” Harry asked, confused.

“More likely she’s checking her makeup but she feels uncomfortable saying that out loud because she has some silly notion that serious women don’t worry about their makeup.”

“Hmm. Intriguing, isn’t she? Our Hermione?”

Narcissa grinned, agreeing wholeheartedly while proofreading the letter.

Hermione came back downstairs a short while later ready to go and asked the others how they wanted to travel.

“Well, your fireplace isn’t attached to the Floo network, so we’ll have to Apparate, right?”

“I was actually thinking, Narcissa, we could maybe take the tube?”

“I love the underground,” Harry grinned.

Narcissa smiled indulgently and agreed to go back underground. “I do find it interesting,” she said, “I just didn’t necessarily appreciate the odors.”

Hermione laughed right out loud and Harry followed suit, “When you’re right, you’re right, Narcissa. That is definitely a downfall of the tube.”

Seated side by side in the metro car, Narcissa took the opportunity to lace her fingers through Hermione’s, a smile lighting up her face.

“What are you thinking about?” Hermione pressed her lips to the hand holding hers.

“Our conversation on Friday, the first time we sat in one of these belowground trains together,” Narcissa leaned over and pressed their lips together instead.

Hermione hummed happily into the kiss before asking what they had discussed.

“It was when we decided to publish our own Engagement Announcement. I think, for me, this all started to feel more real in that moment. You know? Deciding together to make a public statement?”

“I know what you mean,” Hermione agreed, lifting their linked hands and pulling Narcissa’s arm around her shoulders instead, “it’s pretty real now, though, yeah?”

“Yes,” Narcissa kissed Hermione again to the apparent distaste of another woman nearby.

“Oi!” Harry said loudly, “there’s plenty of open seats in the car. Move on if you don’t like us!”

Hermione and Narcissa both stared at Harry, surprised at his reaction.

“What? She was being rude,” he defended. When neither woman answered, simply looking back at him with half smirks on their faces, he spoke again, “okay, listen. Things are different in our world. Nobody cares that you’re two wi-omen, right? They’re more concerned with where you stood a year ago than whether you’re a lady or a gent. Muggles aren’t like that. There’s a lot of...of struggle gone on here for equality and visibility. People have pushed hard in both directions. So, taking the underground might make for some moments where we have to be the people who push back. Because in our world, we don’t have to.”

“You were right, Narcissa. He does have a Hero Complex,” Hermione teased.

“Harry, you have a heart of gold, you’re probably a truer Gryffindor than Godric himself but you can not fight every battle on every front. Sometimes you have to choose,” Narcissa said seriously.

Harry looked frustrated. He turned away from them, watching the woman who had scoffed at his friends in disgust only moments earlier.

“But it’s all the same battle in the end. I believe in every sentient creature’s inalienable right to determine one’s own fate. The Ministry wants to choose who we marry. So does that lady. The Ministry thinks you should marry Ron,” he tipped his head at Hermione, “and you, Lucius,” he tipped his head at Narcissa, “and that woman would agree with that without a doubt. So putting my foot down with her is the same thing as pushing back against the Decree. I just did it with less finesse here.”

Hermione slowly nodded, eyes scanning the ceiling but taking in nothing, “I wonder if we should do it with more finesse here.”

Harry and Narcissa both turned and looked at Hermione.

“Sorry, hear me out. I wonder if we’ve, what’s the phrase? Brought a knife to a gun fight? By fighting the Ministry’s Decree so stealthily? And perhaps here...you used a bullhorn in an echo chamber. Maybe we should swap tactics?”

“An interesting idea to be sure but one we are not going to take on today. Harry, be a crusader and right the wrongs you find in the world. I love it. Today, though, let us focus on just what we’ve planned to do. Now, didn’t you say Oxford Circus?” Narcissa stood, refusing to relinquish her grip on Hermione’s hand.

“Oh, yes! We’re here, let’s go,” Hermione said and started to move toward the door away from the nasty woman sharing their train car. Narcissa, however, had other ideas. She pulled her young fiancée to the exit the woman was sitting beside.

Just before Narcissa stepped out of the train car, she looked the woman square in the eye and said very kindly, “I hope you remember, when you judge another person, you do not define them, you define yourself.” Narcissa shook her head sadly and ended the moment with, “I hope you have a better day.”

Harry and Hermione stared at Narcissa as the three of them stood on the platform.

“Just focus on today’s plan, eh?” Harry teased, one eyebrow up.

“We have to switch here, right? Trains or lines or something?”

“Oh, Narcissa,” Hermione laughed, “You’re just wonderful. Yes, we switch to the Bakerloo line and take it just a few stops to Charing Cross.” Hermione tugged Narcissa’s hand as she started toward the nearby stairs.

When the trio finally made their way through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley a little while later they were, once again, laughing. 

“I swear it,” Harry said, holding his left hand up and his right hand on his heart, “it was so disturbing!”

“I can’t believe,” Hermione was giggling too hard to complete her sentences in one go, “you never told me,” she stopped to breathe again, “Moaning Myrtle was trying to sneak a peek in the tub!” She collapsed against Narcissa, hysterical.

“I’m a man of mystery, Hermione. I have to keep some things secret!”

“Yes, Mister Potter,” Narcissa chuckled, “from Myrtle!” She and Hermione laughed again.

They arrived in front of the offices of The Daily Prophet and stopped to compose themselves. “It won’t do to walk in there in a fit of giggles,” Narcissa said, still trying to get herself to stop.

“Why did you want to go in there again,” Harry asked her.

“Well, I found out yesterday I am a partial owner of the Prophet. Last year or maybe two years ago, I’m not quite clear on the exact time frame, the Prophet was printing a lot of false stories about you, Harry, and when people found out they were untrue, they all canceled their subscriptions and the Prophet almost went bankrupt. Lucius and a few others bought up those shares to keep the Prophet in business. I’m here to find out exactly what percentage Draco and I own and what I can do with that.”

“You mean, like, can you stop them from printing Skeeter’s garbage?”

“Or, perhaps, no writers for the Prophet are allowed to use a Quick-Quotes Quill anymore,” Narcissa replied, no longer laughing.

“That’s the one,” Hermione agreed.

“And, also, stop printing Skeeter’s garbage,” Narcissa smirked.

Harry and Hermione both nodded and the three of them entered the office. The young woman sitting at the receptionist’s desk smiled at them and asked how she could help.

“You two go ahead,” Narcissa said quietly.

As Harry and Hermione asked to have their statement printed the next morning, Narcissa looked around at the framed papers hanging on the walls. Old articles preserved behind glass traced the history of Wizarding Britain throughout the Daily Prophet’s time. Notably, there was nothing hanging that had been written during the most recent war. She started her perusal over, noting names more than stories her second time through. Narcissa realized that as the years passed, the noteworthy articles became fewer and fewer, as did the noteworthy journalists. 

“Narcissa!” Hermione practically shouted next to her.

One hand pressed to her heart, Narcissa stared incredulously at her younger partner.

“I said your name no less than five times!” Hermione defended.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry,” Narcissa reached for Hermione, relieved the other woman stepped into the embrace, “I was lost in thought about something to do with the Prophet.”

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed, kissing Narcissa quickly, “maybe you should start making your own list of all the wrongs you wish to right.”

They glared playfully at one another for a moment before separating so Harry and Hermione could go to Gringotts ahead of Narcissa.

“You’ll meet me there? And then lunch?” Hermione double checked.

“Yes,” Narcissa reassured, pulling her in for just one more kiss, “I’ll meet you at Gringotts, we can go over some things and then go for lunch.”

Narcissa watched Hermione leave with Harry, looking for signs of trouble or unhappiness...she saw none. Turning back, she found the receptionist staring at her.

“Is there...is something the matter?” Narcissa asked, suddenly unsure of herself.

“You really are into her?” the woman, Samantha, asked.

Narcissa relaxed, smiling. “To the very depths of my soul,” she replied. “Is Barnabas in?”

“He doesn’t take visitors,” Samantha said awkwardly.

“Good thing I’m not a visitor,” Narcissa grinned, knowing she had the attention of the other woman.

“What…” Samantha cleared her throat, “What are you then?” her cheeks went pink.

“I’m Narcissa Black. I’m an owner,” Narcissa planted both palms on Samantha’s desk and raised her eyebrows. “Is Barnabas here now?”

The receptionist nodded but looked around conspiratorially, “Listen, Narcissa Black, don’t tell him I told you...but he can’t afford to buy you out. The Prophet’s in big trouble again.”

“Good thing I’ve got just the fix,” Narcissa winked and walked into the back room, head held high.

She expected a crowded, noisy newsroom. She found a dark, stale, empty shell of a place. It was musty. It hadn’t been properly used in far too long. There was no aroma of coffee, no clattering of type-writers competing for speed, no scratching of quills. 

Barnabas Cuffe stood in the frame of his office door, ten yards away from Narcissa, watching her absorb the sad view. When she saw him, he jerked his head toward the chair behind him, silently beckoning her over.

“Barnabas...what?”

“Death. Fear. The war. A lack of resources. The Quick-Quotes Quill. Take your choice. Put ‘em all together, that’s what I do.”

“But you’re still going to print every day twice a day. How?”

“All my reporters work in the field. None have families, they all use the triple Q. Gets articles done so much faster. What we lack in accuracy we make up for in speed.”

“Are any other owners left?”

“No. They’ve all given up. Didn’t want their names attached to it. Just you and Draco are left.”

Narcissa smiled, a small smile, grim but filled with determination. “It’s better that way. No one to convince then.”

“Convince? What in Merlin’s beard you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Barnabas, we’re going to save the Prophet. First - no articles will be printed if the writer has used a Quick-Quotes Quill. Second - all factual articles will be written by educated journalists not opinion-writing hacks. Third - we’re now charging to print people’s op-eds. Fourth - hire a damn journalist who’s actually studied journalism and understands the word ethics. Fifth - if Rita Skeeter ever publishes another negative word about my fiancée in this paper, we will ruin it...completely. Hermione is a wonderful, brilliant, logical, caring, beautiful, thoughtful, ethical, kind human being and Rita Skeeter doesn’t deserve to even say her name. Are we clear?”

“I can’t bloody do that overnight! Are you crazy? If my writers can’t use Quick-Quotes they can’t write fast enough to print twice a day.”

Narcissa pursed her lips and remained silent.

“You don’t want an Evening Prophet printed?”

“I said no such thing,” Narcissa folded her hands primly on her lap.

“But you think it, don’t you?”

“I think a lot of things. The first being that you need to get every single writer into this office today and explain their new expectations. If you can’t do that before the Evening Prophet prints, well…” Narcissa shrugged and glanced away before meeting Barnabas’ eyes once more.

Barnabas, elbows on his desk, dropped his face into his hands rubbing his tired eyes. “Do you really think this is going to help?”

“At this point, can it hurt? You’re losing money, hand over fist. You should be raking it in with the Decree out and new couples announced every day but the writer working on it, Trecus? Just isn’t doing it justice. Your other articles aren’t holding water either. You're mostly printing fluff or hit pieces and even your advertising looks five years old.”

Barnabas stood and walked to the window, shaking his head. “I loved the Prophet when I took over. I loved the intrigue and ferreting out a good story, chasing a lead, arguing over whose story should make it above the fold and who should get the bigger byline. It’s just...after all this time, it’s become...less intriguing and more tedious.”

Narcissa took a deep breath, _This is worse than I thought._ “Then let’s make a plan. The Daily Prophet is the most widely-read paper in the United Kingdom and Ireland. Let’s keep it that way.”

“I want out, Narcissa. I’ve been here too long. I’m done,” he turned and looked at her.

“And we can make that happen, Cuffe, but don’t just trash the Prophet on your way out. Don’t make that your legacy. Don’t leave behind a Ministry rag in place of the paper you poured yourself into. You worked hard to become Editor-in-Chief, don’t forget all that. Don’t let this be just another casualty of war.”

He tucked his hands deep into the pockets of his wrinkled trousers, “I don’t know how not to.”

“Start by calling in every writer and printer for a meeting at 3 o’clock this afternoon - including any freelancers you regularly publish. You can tell them then that there will be absolutely no more Quick-Quotes Quills used by this publication. The Evening Prophet will only be sent out if there is breaking news during the day for the foreseeable future instead of sending out two nearly identical papers like we are now. I’ll be back here, with my fiancée, at half two to discuss some of the other changes I’m going to suggest. Don’t worry, Barnabas. You’ll go out on top and the Prophet will hopefully stay there.”

Barnabas stepped forward and reached a hand toward Narcissa, “Okay, Miss Black, let’s try it. I’ll see you at two thirty and I’ll bring the others in at three.”

Narcissa stood up and shook his hand firmly, smiling. “If you have a cleaning group that comes in, you might want to see if they can do a quick tidy before this afternoon. I’d be happy to pay for it. I think the staff might be more apt to work with us if they feel like the newsroom is ready for them.”

“Too true,” Barnabas chortled, his mood improving with the idea that the paper might also improve, “I’ll ask Samantha to get them in right away. And see if we can’t stock the inkwells and quills while we’re at it and the magical typewriters, too. Make it a right proper newsroom before they get here. They way it used to be.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that! Newspapers have always been such a fascinating place to me! I’ll see you after lunch, I’m off to Gringotts to meet my Hermione,” Narcissa smiled brightly.

Narcissa left him standing next to Samantha discussing the things the two of them had to complete for the afternoon. She stepped out onto the sidewalk in Diagon Alley, slightly anxious at the larger number of people than she liked. _Nothing I can do about it. Just get to Gringotts, Hermione is there waiting. It’ll be fine._

It had rained while she spoke with Barnabas and Narcissa deftly avoided a few puddles as she made her way up the first block. Not daring to glance around, Narcissa kept her eyes on Gringotts nearly constantly as she passed the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Only a few steps later, however, she said a quiet, “Excuse me,” as she avoided a puddle and a couple who were walking in the opposite direction. Apparently someone did not excuse her...and instead shoved Narcissa sideways - quite forcefully - into the puddle of muddy rainwater. Stunned, she did not immediately rise. In a terrible display of mob mentality, no one nearby offered a hand and, in fact, someone stepped on Narcissa’s.

“Dirty Death Eater,” a woman spat.

“I thought they were cleaning up these streets,” another man said nastily.

“Filthy traitor,” came a growl, too close for comfort.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on out here?” Narcissa heard as she saw a hand reach toward her.

“Protego,” she cried, her wand sliding out of the wrist holster she kept it in.

The few witches and wizards still near her were forced back a few steps, only solidifying the circle around her. She knew she was in trouble. 

“Narcissa?” She hard from a quiet old voice. “Narcissa is that you? Are you hurt, dear? Come, come, up with you. These stones get so slippery in the rain. Come in for a spot of tea to warm up.”

She looked up to see none other than Ollivander himself stretching out a hand to her.

“You can’t help her!” Another wizard shouted. “She kept you locked up in Malfoy Manor for ages!”

“Fool,” Ollivander scoffed, pulling Narcissa to her feet. He carefully tucked her injured hand into his elbow before looking at the man who had yelled. “Were you in Malfoy Manor with me, Treavus?”

“No. Er, that is, no, sir.”

“Then you should not presume to know who kept me locked up where. Miss Black in fact did no such thing to me. Some day, you shall all know the whole story and then you’ll be sorry for how you’ve treated her. She deserves your thanks. Not your scorn.”

Narcissa tried to hold her head high and ignore the people around them, saying quietly to Ollivander, “Thank you, ever so much. I’m afraid I can’t come in just now. I’m due to meet my fiancée at Gringotts and she’ll be quite worried that I’m late.”

“She should be worried,” he murmured back, not wanting to be overheard. “That mob could have gotten dangerous, Narcissa. Be careful. You ought to clean yourself up before Miss Granger sees you or she’ll be very upset. And we need to heal your hand.”

“Yes, I think he may have broken my finger when he stepped on it,” she fought back her tears, the pain throbbing stronger now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

The crowd had begun to disperse but a woman, by herself, stepped toward Narcissa. Wand still in hand, Narcissa eyed her warily.

“I’m very sorry about what just happened, Miss Black. My name is Angelique Sasson, I’m a healer at St. Mungo’s. I think maybe you should let me take a look at your hand?”

Narcissa stepped back, her breathing quickened, eyes glancing around.

Angelique raised both hands, empty, palms forward. “Honestly, I just happened to be walking up as the altercation ended. I saw you on the ground and thought you might need help. I can see from here that two of your fingers are discolored. That often signifies a broken bone. I’m going to open my cloak so you can see my nametag.” Angelique did so, her nametag verified the information she had just supplied, that she was a junior healer at St. Mungo’s. “I can perform a simple diagnostic spell on your hand to see exactly what’s wrong and we can mend those bones or get you a potion if the injury is to the cartilage, ligaments or tendons. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ollivander had slowly led Narcissa just inside his shop so they were off the street and she finally nodded at the other woman.

“Before I check on your hand, are there any other injuries?”

“I may have a few bruises on my leg and my pride but nothing that won’t heal with time.”

“ _Ostendo_ ,” Angelique said, pointing her wand at Narcissa’s left hand. A ghostly blue image rose from her skin pulsing purple right where it hurt. Angelique circled the area with the tip of her wand and it magnified itself, displaying multiple fractured bones. “Mmm, just as we thought. You have a few breaks here, Miss Black. I can heal them now with no problem, they’re all, thankfully, clean breaks but your hand will be quite sore for a few days. I recommend putting ice or a cold pack on it for about twenty minutes at a time a few times a day. I can tell you what potions to take if you’d rather go that route but…”

“I don’t prefer pain relieving potions, thank you.”

The healer smiled, “You seem like a woman who likes to be in control...of her faculties, I mean,” she finished with a little shake of her head. “If you could, Miss Black, just rest your hand here, on the arm of the chair, and I can heal those breaks for you.”

Narcissa complied, looking at the healer with narrowed eyes. _Is she flirting with me? How odd. Everyone must know Hermione and I are engaged at this point._

“ _Vulnere sano_ ,” she gently pressed on one fracture.

“ _Vulnere sano_ ,” she gently pressed on the next.

“ _Vulnere sano_ ,” she gently pressed on the final break in Narcissa’s pinky.

When Angelique looked up at Narcissa she found her face quite pale with little beads of sweat appearing near her temples. “Are you going to be okay, Miss Black? Narcissa?”

“Yes,” Narcissa exhaled, “I wasn’t expecting that to be so painful but I felt my bones moving back together. It was...disconcerting. Thank you, Miss, ehm, Healer Sasson. If there’s ever anything I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask. Thank you, Mister Ollivander for helping me today. You’ve always shown me such kindness. I really must be going to meet Hermione now, she’ll be wondering where I am.” Narcissa carefully stood, making sure she would be able to maintain her balance. She looked down at her robes, seeing the muddy streetwater had left a large stain.

“I’m heading toward Gringotts, can I walk with you for a few minutes?” Angelique asked.

“Certainly,” Narcissa answered, relieved not to be heading outside alone, “I want to step into the alley and _Scourgify_ my robes and shoes before Hermione sees them, though. She’ll be so worried and feel so guilty for making me walk alone if she sees this mess.”

The women waved goodbye to Ollivander who had already gone back to working on his wands and Angelique kept a wary eye out while Narcissa cleaned herself up.

“All better?” Angelique asked when Narcissa joined her on the street.

“Yes, thank you for asking,” Narcissa answered very quietly, eyes darting everywhere, wand gripped tightly in her right hand.

“Let’s step off the sidewalk and just walk right in the street. It’s less crowded and you might feel safer.”

“That obvious, am I? You’ve just met me and you can already tell I feel unsafe here?”

“Well, the death grip on your wand kind of gives it away.”

Narcissa took a deep breath and tucked her wand back in its holster; she rolled her shoulders and adopted her typical regal pose.

“Ah, so this is the Narcissa Black that Hermione Granger’s expecting to see, is it?”

Narcissa nodded, smirking.

“And if she saw the disheveled, dirty, hand-broken, wand-gripping mess she would’ve worried?”

“Panicked, more like. Though, I don’t appreciate the description, thank you very much.”

“Panicked?” Angelique ignored the unappreciative part of the comment.

“If she saw my skirt soaked with muddy streetwater and my hand broken? Yes, she’d have panicked and felt so guilty,” Narcissa said, bringing her left hand up to her chest.

“Hmm,” Angelique intoned.

“What?” Narcissa looked at the blonde women with whom she walked, mentally noting that her hair was nearly the same shade as Fleur Delacour’s.

“Sounds like love,” the healer smiled, “and it looks like she’s right there looking for you. This is my stop,” she pointed at Flourish and Blott’s, “I’m here for some books. Maybe we’ll run into each other again Miss Black. Take care of that hand.” Angelique winked and stepped into the bookstore just as Hermione reached Narcissa.

“What? What’s wrong?” Hermione asked. “Narcissa? Are you okay? You look...gobsmacked.”

Narcissa glanced back and forth between Hermione and the door to the shop. “I am...I’m fine. I just, I don’t know.”

“Who was that?”

“Um, Angelique Sasson,” Narcissa answered, saying it with a perfect French accent.

“Oh?” Hermione, who had been reaching for Narcissa, stepped back.

Narcissa, of course, noticed immediately and reached out to Hermione right away. “Yes, a healer, or junior healer actually, from St. Mungo’s. I had a…” Narcissa sighed. She had no desire to have this conversation in the middle of the street. “Can we pop home for just a second? Is Harry waiting for us somewhere?”

“No, he went back to the flat to do some reading. Is everything okay?” Hermione wrapped her arm around Narcissa’s waist as they stepped toward the bank.

“I’m fine, darling. Can we just pop to the Manor for a minute so I can tell you what happened, and then we can come back and go to Gringotts?” Narcissa looked at Hermione, waiting for the younger woman to make eye contact.

“Of course. I’m ready, go on,” Hermione answered.

After Apparating just outside the gates, the women entered the property and sat on a garden bench together while Narcissa explained what had happened both at the Prophet and then, on the street.

“Hermione, really, please stop apologizing. It wasn’t your fault. I was in Diagon Alley just yesterday by myself and I had no trouble. It was just a poor moment. It did, however, give me another idea.”

“Is your hand really okay?” Hermione held Narcissa’s left hand so very gently in her own, placing a careful kiss on her pinky and ring fingers.

“Yes. My hand will be okay. That’s why I was walking with Angelique, she healed it. I’ll be just fine. Now, let’s go to Gringotts and then lunch, okay?”

“Only if you’re sure you’re okay. I’d be just as happy to go inside, put on some comfy clothes, and watch some trashy muggle shows on the telly with you,” Hermione said before pressing a kiss to Narcissa’s lips.

Returning the kiss first, then Narcissa answered that her hand truly was going to be fine. “While a day inside with just you sounds like heaven right now, I don’t want to let what happened scare me away from the plans we’ve made. We have a lot to accomplish in a short amount of time.”

Hermione shook her head, a little grin on her face, “You’re amazing, Narcissa.”

The two stepped outside the gates and Apparated back to Diagon Alley, just outside of Gringotts. Hermione made sure Narcissa’s sore left hand was tucked gently into her right elbow where she covered it with her own left hand keeping it safely protected. Once inside, Narcissa asked to speak with Garnjee once again.

“Please wait a few minutes for Garnjee, Miss Black and Miss Granger. He is escorting someone from their vault right now.”

“Of course,” Narcissa smiled.

The women stood huddled together talking quietly as they waited. “The Wize Wizard again?”

“Two weeks in a row?”

“Seems cute,” Hermione shrugged, smirking.

Narcissa reached up with her right hand, twirling one of Hermione’s curls around her finger, “A coincidence or a standing date?”

“Hmm,” Hermione teased, as if she didn’t know what she wanted to say already, “I’m going to go with definitely a standing date. Tuesdays. Lunch at the Wize Wizard.”

“I can only think of one we’re going to break.”

Hermione frowned, tilting her head for a moment before realizing what Narcissa meant. Together they said the day they would be skipping lunch at the small Diagon Alley pub, “Tuesday, the twenty-second of December.”

They shared a quick kiss and only seconds later, Narcissa heard a familiar voice call her name. She waved and the women followed him along the almost familiar corridors to his office.

“Miss Black, back already with your betrothed?” He grinned in that eerie, toothy way Goblin’s have.

“I am, Garnjee. I was hoping you might be able to show her the details of the Black Family Vault here at Gringotts and the accounting book that you showed me yesterday?”

“Of course, we can also begin the process of adding her name so that the moment your marriage is official, Miss Granger - or Lady Black? - will also have access to the Vault.”

“That would be perfect, thank you. We’ll both be using the name Lady Granger-Black I believe. Though, that could get confusing.” Narcissa frowned a little and glanced at Hermione, who was looking back at her calmly. “We have time to discuss our titles, I suppose,” Narcissa smiled back.

“Here is the accounting log, Miss Granger. You can see from the green entries where the deposits have come from and the red entries where the expenses go to. The black line is the amount in the account at the end of business. Until recently, the expenses were all related to the upkeep of Black Manor in Enfield and Maison de Black in Paris with small amounts for groceries and the like. In the last week, you can see there have been various expenses throughout London and Paris, wedding related I assume. I keep an eye on it to make sure no one is trying to use the Black Family Vault without authorization.”

Hermione was flipping through the accounting book, nodding in understanding. “This is very straightforward. Is it updated magically? When Narcissa and I purchased clothing in Paris last week, were those galleons removed magically or did someone have to physically enter Narcissa’s vault to remove them? Was a bill sent or did the transfer happen magically? How does it work?”

“Good questions,” Garnjee rubbed his long-fingered hands together and leaned forward on his elbows, “when a witch or wizard with a vault here does business with another person or company with a vault here, everything happens magically; a bill is sent in, received by our transaction department, reviewed, and cleared. If only one party has a vault here, a bill is sent and a Gringotts employee summons the galleons, sickles, and knuts required to satisfy the cost. However, that only applies to vaults at a depth of five hundred or deeper. Any vaults more shallow than that may not be billed, all transactions must take place outside the bank.”

“And what’s the determining factor in whether one may have a vault above or below five hundred?”

“Gold, Miss Granger. This is Gringotts **bank**. One must have enough gold to move their vault to level five hundred or below. We do offer a certain, shall we say, grace period for accounts with a balance that drops beneath the standard for their level.”

“My fiancée currently has a vault in the two hundreds, I believe, as she never before needed to maintain a magical banking account,” Narcissa joined the conversation. “With the amount of Galleons she currently has in her account, would it be prudent to move to a deeper vault or would it make more sense to simply hold her simple vault now because we’re going to combine finances in a few months?”

“Narcissa, are you sure?” Hermione asked. “I don’t want to assume access to the Black family fortune. There’s hundreds of millions of galleons here that don’t belong to me.”

Garnjee smirked and watched as Narcissa leaned forward to hold Hermione’s attention, “Darling, listen carefully. Imagine, if you will, that in the dissolution of my marriage to Lucius I lost everything. All I had were a few thousand galleons to my name and an old Manor. While you, well, you’re the Brains of the Golden Trio. You have forty million galleons and a promising future. Shall we keep our finances separate?”

“Of course, not.”

“Then there’s no reason to do so now. The moment we are married all the gold in the Black Family Vault will belong to you just as it belongs to me.”

Garnjee hummed and tapped his finger tip on his chin, “I need to read your marriage contract before December the twenty-first to know how much access Miss Granger will have and to understand the clauses.”

Narcissa fell silent. She glanced sideways at Hermione before biting her lip. “Of course, we’ll send that over,” she finally answered. “In the meantime, Hermione and I had discussed the possibility of creating a separate wedding account from which all of our wedding expenses would be drawn. It would be easier for us to keep track of it that way. Would we be able to shift some of each of our gold into a five hundred level vault and have two ledger books created so we each have one that is magically updated at the same time?”

“Absolutely. How much gold?” Garnjee asked, pulling open a locked drawer.

The women looked at one another, matching expressions of questioning innocence on their faces. Hermione shrugged and spoke first, “Five million galleons each?”

“That should easily more than cover it,” Narcissa agreed, “if the balance runs too low, simply add galleons from the Black Family Vault.”

“Okay,” Garnjee said, “you’ll need to sign here, Miss Black, to move five million galleons. Miss Granger, we will need to visit your vault to do so. While we do that, I would recommend, Miss Granger, as Miss Black suggested, that you move your entire fortune to a deeper vault. There will be purchases you make that will cost more gold than you wish to carry. I can draw up that paperwork to be signed before we go as well?”

Hermione hesitated only a moment, knowing she was doing this for such a brief time felt like a waste but Garnjee did have a point and Narcissa obviously trusted him, “Yes, sounds like a good plan, Garnjee, thank you.”

“Before we finish, may I offer one more suggestion?” the goblin asked.

“Absolutely, you know I trust you,” Narcissa replied immediately.

“I suggest we open both of these vaults on the six hundred level or lower. The five hundreds are good but if you do need to visit them, they’re accessible only by levatator or stairs.”

“Wait, there’s differences between each level more than just banking?” Hermione asked.

Chuckling again, Garnjee teased before he explained the security changes from level to level within Gringotts, “Miss Granger, for a bankrobber, you’re rather ill informed. Ground level, vaults before one hundred, are protected by a simple identity charm. Level one hundred, down a hidden ramp, is protected by an identity charm and handprint. Level two hundred, adds a key. Level three hundred adds a staircase. Level four hundred adds the levatator. Level five hundred and deeper you are assigned a personal banker. Starting at level six hundred you have to take the mine carts. For level seven hundred and the Family Vaults you have to have a Goblin with you for access or any number of enchantments, traps, and protections will ensnare you.”

“Thank you for explaining all of that to me. I truly regret the harm I caused in May and I am deeply sorry for the goblin lives lost as a result of my actions,” Hermione said somberly.

Garnjee nodded deeply in response. With the paperwork for vaults in the six hundreds drawn up and signed, Garnjee had a Key Maker meet them below at their new vaults.

Hermione and Narcissa joined Garnjee as they made their way to Hermione’s vault, which was filled with gold. A worker-level goblin in a blue jumpsuit met them there. He and Garnjee had a quick conversation in Gobbledegook about what would be happening with the fortune from Hermione’s former vault. Once it looked like both parties understood, Garnjee asked Hermione to open the vault.

“Be careful, though, Miss Granger. It’s very full,” he snickered.

He wasn’t lying.

Hermione slowly turned the key and when the doorknob clicked free of the frame, the gold inside forced the door open and came spilling out. The goblins nearby laughed hysterically. Hermione blushed furiously but took it in stride. “Well, now, Garnjee, I’m rather glad I took your advice and agreed to move this gold to a deeper vault.”

Garnjee finally stopped laughing and patted Hermione’s back, “Come, come, Miss Granger. Back up the stairs to a minecart. We will go to your new vaults now.” She couldn’t help but smile at Narcissa as she heard Garnjee continue to occasionally chuckle.

When they reached the loading level for the minecarts, Narcissa stopped suddenly before stepping in front of Hermione to climb in first. It had been so long since Narcissa had been in one, she had forgotten how small the carts were. “I’ll sit furthest back, Hermione, Garnjee needs to sit in the front. You sit here.” Narcissa patted the wooden bench in front of her, smirking up at her fiancée.

“Gladly,” Hermione said, stepping into the cart and settling quickly, her back to Narcissa’s front, her hands holding Narcissa’s arms around her. Hermione turned her head to speak quietly to Narcissa, “If I remembered how tightly we had to pack into these minecarts I might’ve suggested a trip to your vault every day.”

Enjoying having Hermione in her arms, Narcissa quietly whispered back, “Every time I have the opportunity to wrap my arms around you I find myself looking forward more and more to our honeymoon.”

“We needn’t wait that long,” Hermione answered in a singsong voice.

“We are going to be so busy for the next three months, one week, and six days, my dear, we will have to wait.”

The cart jerked loudly forward, silencing their conversation. The two women simply enjoyed the moment to sit together as they took the cart down through the mines of Gringotts to the six hundred level.

“Miss Granger, your new vault will be here, number six hundred eighty-seven,” Garnjee pointed to her new vault. “Lisknok has your key there.” Next to Hermione’s new vault stood a very, very short goblin with spiky white hair. The goblin held a gold key out for Hermione.

“Oh! That’s funny,” Hermione smiled at Garnjee and Lisknok. “Harry just emptied this vault today and moved his gold to Sirius’ Vault, seven hundred something. Thank you for the key.” She nodded at Lisknok. She bowed to the key-maker and turned to go back to the cart but felt a dry hand on her wrist, stopping her.

“No, Miss. You must use your key. While the Key Maker is here, you must open the vault. That’s how the magic works.”

“Oh! I didn’t know. That’s quite interesting.” Hermione looked at the vault door but couldn’t seem to find a keyhole. “I’m not...um, I don’t quite understand. Where do I use the key?”

Lisknok leaned toward her and said quietly, “It’s up to you. Where do you want the lock to be?”

“Right in the center,” Hermione answered, knowing it was a spot she wouldn’t forget.

Lisknok lifted Hermione’s hand with the key in it, circled it around the center of the door, and then pushed the key into the wooden door itself. It sunk as though entering a keyhole! One slowly appeared around the key, Hermione turned it, and the door swung open. The vault beyond was still empty but would soon be fairly filled with galleons.

“Wow,” Hermione was in awe, “Goblin magic is amazing.”

“Your joint vault for wedding expenses will be number six hundred three. Lisknok will make two keys for you there,” Garnjee said, gesturing for Hermione to rejoin them in the cart.

She happily clambered in, quickly resting her body back against Narcissa’s and quietly hoping for a longer ride. They were, sadly, disappointed; their ride was barely two minutes.

“Interesting that the vaults are not arranged in a linear pattern,” Hermione commented as she stepped out of the minecart. She turned and offered a hand to Narcissa, assuming they would both be getting keys at their shared vault.

Narcissa stood directly in front of Hermione and held direct eye contact for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Darling. I understand that you have a highly logical mind which allows you to look past extraneous detail and perceive clearly that which others often overlook,” Narcissa smirked, “however, after you’ve successfully robbed a bank and they allow you back in and kindly offer you financial advice, you ought not comment on the layout of their vault arrangement or how curious it may seem to you.”

Hermione’s cheeks burned crimson, even in the darkness of the six hundred level of Gringotts bank Narcissa could see it. She leaned in and pressed her lips to one of those red cheeks, “I’m sorry, Hermione, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No. I didn’t.” Narcissa looked right into Hermione’s teary brown eyes. “I will never seek to embarrass you on purpose and I will never lie to you.” Narcissa kissed her quickly. “I will tell you the truth even when it’s hard, though, and the truth is, dear, you need a better filter sometimes.”

Hermione couldn’t help but agree with that and rolled her eyes.

“Your keys,” Lisknok offered.

At their shared vault, both women were required to initiate their keys at the same time. When they finished, Lisknok checked that the charm worked. 

“Why is everything I do with you so romantic? We set up a bank account and I’m ready to swoon, I feel like a foolish little schoolgirl,” Narcissa murmured into Hermione’s ears as they sat in the minecart for their trip back to the surface. Hermione smirked and looked at Narcissa, eyes sparkling. “That’s my favorite look.”

“What?” the younger woman laughed.

“That grin you have on right now. Your lips pressed together and all the way over to the left like there’s a smile just ready to burst out...like you can barely keep it inside.”

Hermione reached up with one hand and pulled Narcissa’s face to her own. Heedless of the minecart, the vaults, the goblins who might be looking on, she met her fiancée for a powerful kiss.

They pulled apart when the minecart stopped, both looking thoroughly kissed.

Garnjee spoke, “I think that should cover all your needs, Miss Black, Miss Granger. Send over the marriage contract when it’s ready and I will be prepared with the accounts.”

“Thank you, Garnjee. I am very grateful to have you as the manager for the Black Family Vault,” Narcissa bowed her head.

Hermione agreed, bowing as well.

As the couple made their way down Diagon Alley to the Wize Wizard for lunch, Narcissa noted that they had a few hours before what she hoped would be their next appointment together.

“We have plans after lunch?” Hermione asked.

“Not officially…” Narcissa grimaced, turning toward Hermione and gripping both of her hands. “I’m hoping you’ll agree with an idea I’ve had. We can brainstorm over lunch and then go back to the Daily Prophet together to explain it there? If you don’t want to do it, I completely understand, we have enough going on planning a wedding and...things...and your NEWTs but, I’m trying to save the Prophet from going under.”

“Narcissa,” Hermione said, dragging out the last syllable, “you know I think you’re brilliant. I’d love to brainstorm any idea with you. We have a little over three hours, shall we stop at Flourish and Blotts and pick up a notebook or a sheaf of parchment and a quill?”

Narcissa agreed and the women made that one last stop before finally making their way into the pub. They happily got seated at the same table from the week before and laughed just a tiny bit when they also had the same waiter.

“I promise not to stay through dinner today,” Narcissa said solemnly, barely containing her smile.

He joined their laughter and assured them again that he wouldn’t mind if they did.

The two women quickly got to work over lunch. Their heads were bowed together as they sat side by side taking turns scribbling notes onto the paper between them. After a short while, Hermione gently held Narcissa’s left hand in her lap and looked around for Bradley, the waiter.

“Yes,” he said, appearing beside her.

“This is an odd request but could we have a bowl of ice and a tea towel or two, please?”

“Ehm...sure? Just a moment,” he was off but returned only minutes later with the requested items. He walked away slowly watching as Hermione wrapped up a large handful of ice in the middle of one towel and placed it on the table. She then laid Narcissa’s hand over the ice. After that, she put more ice in the second towel, tied it in a knot, and secured it around the top of Narcissa’s injured fingers.

“Thank you, darling,” Narcissa said, pressing a sweet kiss to Hermione’s cheek.

“Of course, Narcissa. I don’t want it to hurt you,” Hermione answered, returning her kiss. “Let’s take a break from the Prophet, okay?”

Narcissa nodded and leaned back in her chair just looking at Hermione.

The younger woman smiled back before asking Narcissa questions about her time at Hogwarts. Before they knew it, an hour had passed and they had to finish their planning for the Prophet before they left for the meeting with Barnabas.

“This should work, Narcissa. A strict layout with clear expectations and exclusive stories. You’re so smart,” Hermione smiled excitedly.

Narcissa cupped Hermione’s cheek with her uninjured hand, “You know, Hermione, you’re going to have to stop complimenting me. I’m not used to it. You’re going to give me an unstoppable ego!”

“Good. You deserve it,” Hermione leaned in and kissed Narcissa...hard. “You should’ve spent your whole life being told how amazing you are. Good thing I know how lucky I am to be the one who gets to tell you now.”

Narcissa kissed her back, saying against her lips, “I’d rather just go home right this second than go to the Prophet.”

“Three months, one week, and six days…”

“But who’s counting,” Narcissa kissed her once more.


	19. Assignments

“There’s just no way to make this work, Miss Black,” Betty Braithwaite said. “You want us to write, by hand, more than one article a day with research to back it up? How? There’s no time!”

“Miss Braithwaite, you may use a quill, a pencil, or a typewriter to put your stories to paper. If you are unable to write more than one article per day, that’s fine, you’ll be held responsible for one and paid that way. The bottom line is that the Prophet is bleeding money and we’re going to fix it. This is going to be hard work. We’re looking at probably three and half months of terribly hard work followed by another six months of moderately hard work before it becomes fun again. But...if we try it this way...it has a chance,” Narcissa said to the room of reporters at the Daily Prophet Headquarters. “We aren’t asking anyone to work for free. You’ll be paid fairly for the work you’re doing and you’re welcome to sell your articles to other publications after first printing here.”

“So, you want _me_ to run the Social Section?” Rita Skeeter asked, sneering and laughing. “I don’t work for the Prophet, Lady Malfoy. I’m a freelance author and I write what I want, when I want, for whomever I want, and they pay for it. Handsomely.”

“Well, if it’s written with a Quick-Quotes Quill like the previous junk you’ve written has been, the Prophet will neither buy nor advertise it. I’m an owner here and I have first hand experience having one of those acidic quills writing about me and those about whom I care, they rarely record the truth and they frequently embellish the inferences. The Prophet is above such shortcuts. As far as ‘running the Social Section’ I don’t believe anyone here asked that of you. In fact, I’m one hundred percent certain you were told in order to continue contributing to the Social Section, you would have to sign a contract agreeing to retire your Quick-Quotes Quills. We are hoping, in fact, Miss Emily Limus would take over as the Content Editor of the Social Section.”

The room broke into polite applause as all faces turned toward the woman seated near Barnabas. She had been with the paper for years, as loyal as the day is long. “Thank you. I would be honored,” Emily said, standing briefly and nodding her head before taking her seat again allowing the meeting to continue.

“So, you’re declaring war on a brand of quills? What now? Do you own the Rapid Writer?” Skeeter continued.

Narcissa pursed her lips and stared back at Rita before smirking slightly and replying - to everyone’s surprise, “Actually, that’s not a terrible question. I do have a lot of new business holdings of which I was previously unaware but I don’t think there are any rapid writing instruments in there. Darling,” Narcissa said and turned toward Hermione, a glint in her eye, “do you know if we have any holdings in Rapid Writer Quills?”

“Not that I’m aware of, my dear,” Hermione answered, not even bothering to hide her smile.

“There. You see, Rita? We will be using no short-cuts of any kind at this paper. Is there some kind of auto-writing type-machine we should also include in everyone’s new contracts?”

“Contracts?” Narcissa heard from the other side of the room.

She turned to make eye contact with Hermione who also looked confused. 

“Yes. Contracts. You are to be contracted employees of the Daily Prophet. You will have jobs with specific tasks and expectations. Those will come with guidelines and requirements, also protections and guarantees from us, along with your salary and an outline for how to get a bonus. Obviously the Editor-in-Chief makes the most money, then the Content Editors, Reporters, and Interns. As the Prophet grows back into the larger-than-life paper we all know her to be, we will add a few more categories in there like Managing Editor, Junior Editors, Senior and Junior Reporters, and the like.”

“Before we finish laying out the new assignments, I just want to know if anyone is interested in covering the Decree and all the upcoming weddings and announcements,” the Editor-in-Chief asked the reporters. “I know Kikus has been covering the announcement for us so far, but if you’re not vested in it, we can assign someone else.”

“Well, mate,” the older gentleman rubbed his palms together, “I don’t mind covering the Decree and even going to the Ministry to ask some questions and follow some leads but I’m not keen on the weddings themselves.”

“Hmm,” Cuffe nodded, making eye contact with Narcissa.

“Then I do think you’re the perfect person to be the Content Editor of the Special Section on Ministerial Decrees. You can hire reporters or seek interns to write some articles under you but you have control of that section. Betty can be your wedding writer, she likes that stuff, yeah, Betty? You can attend any Decree-weddings the Prophet gets invited to and report on them. Any new Decree-related wedding announcements will go in your section. What do you think, do you agree?”

Kikus tilted his head back and forth, trying to decide. “Do you think the wedding announcements and reports ought to go in the Decree section? I think they should go in the Social Section. They’re weddings, not Ministry events.”

The newsroom was once again silent as everyone thought about how to answer. “And yet,” Emily Limus spoke up, “hasn’t the Ministry made them Ministry events? By declaring themselves able to assign marriage partners and childbearing timeframes, has the Ministry not intertwined these two sections themselves?”

“And that,” Narcissa pointed to Emily, “is why everyone must be in the newsroom each day. Special Section Content Editor, Kikus Trecus. Social Content Editor, Emily Limus. Sports Content Editor, Matthais Carneirus. Personal Interest Content Editor, Keira Morrison. Breaking News will be assigned to reporters as Barnabas sees fit and he will have editorial control as it will nearly always be above the fold, front page news. Our photographers will be Adrian, Bozo, Gary, Davina, and Eta. Matthias, I very, very, very strongly urge you to reach out to the European, French, and Irish Quidditch Leagues to get reports and scores for their leagues every single day. I also urge you to start a column on different wizarding sports. Run a weekly column on Quodpot with the league results from the American league and the North American League, Gobstones, Wizarding Chess tournaments, and even exploding snap. I also think it would be a great bridge to budding sports writers of the future if you contacted Headmistress McGonagall and asked for a student to write a weekly recap of their Quidditch games for a Hogwarts league column. You could do the same for the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Quidditch leagues as well, if you’d like, and even the Ilvermorny Quodpot league. It would really beef up the Sports section of the Prophet and, in my opinion, sell a lot more papers. It would also set us up to have that inside relationship when the Tri-Wizard Tournament does start back up again, which I’m sure it will.”

Matthias was taking notes and nodding every so often. “I was thinking actually, um, Miss Black, that it would be kind of neat to get an inside perspective from a player. What’s life really like on a professional Quidditch team? Maybe that could be a weekly column? An editorial from a different quidditch player?”

“Great idea, Matthias!” Barnabas laughed, excited. Narcissa smiled and nodded along, too.

“For the Personal Interest section, it will have the ‘Prophet’s Problems’ page from before but you needn’t run every column every day. Also in Personal Interest you can include classified ads, eh, job listings, things like that. That will also be where the ‘human interest’ stories go. So, say some witch decides next week to start a charity for orphaned house elves and we want to run an article on her. You would run it in the Personal Interest section and have Editorial control over the content before it even reached Barnabas for layout.”

“So, I can run the, say, financial column on Tuesdays and Thursdays and the romance column on Saturdays and Sundays?”

“Whatever days work best for you and your readers. You probably already know when those letters are coming in. You know best when to print them.”

“If you haven’t been named a Content Editor or a photographer, you are a reporter. Content Editors, please choose an office along the outside of the room. Reporters, please choose a desk. Barnabas and Samantha have had the entire newsroom cleaned and restocked in preparation for today’s meeting. Now. We have a paper going to print in just over twelve hours. So, reporters, can you split yourselves up or shall we assign you to an editor?”

Everyone in the room stared at Narcissa in shock for a few moments. They had never been ordered around so...politely before.

“I think we mostly know where we’d like to be. If there’s a conflict or a problem, though, what shall we do? To whom shall we speak?”

“If you can’t make it work with your Content Editor or, vice versa, Content Editors, if you have a reporter who just isn’t working out in your section, you have to let me know as soon as you can. We can mediate or re-assign but only if we’re made aware of any situations that arise,” Barnabas said loudly but with compassion. He truly hoped the reorganization worked, he loved the Daily Prophet and wanted quite badly for the paper to survive.

“Miss Skeeter, we appreciate you joining us for this meeting,” Narcissa said kindly, “but as you can see, our newsroom is hard at work and you are a freelance writer who, as you reminded us, doesn’t work for the Prophet, see you soon. Any other reporters who consider themselves freelance writers, please wait in the lobby, Mr. Cuffe and I will be out to speak with you in a moment.”

Narcissa and Hermione took a quick moment to themselves while the Prophet employees moved around the room negotiating desk choices with one another and bargaining for which section of the paper they wanted to write. “Narcissa, your plan worked perfectly. I’m so proud of you,” Hermione pressed a quick kiss to the other woman’s cheek.

“Thank you,” Narcissa blushed. “I hope the Prophet survives this shake up. It really is going to be a smaller paper to print at first while everyone remembers how to actually write an article.”

“I wonder…” Hermione trailed off, biting at the corner of her lip.

“What do you wonder? What did you notice?”

Hermione waited another moment to answer, pulling Narcissa further away from the others and saying quietly, “I wonder why Rita Skeeter is so defensive of the Quick-Quotes Quill. It hasn’t really helped her reputation and she knows it writes falsehoods. I wonder what her real tie to it is, that’s all.”

“Good point,” Narcissa smirked. “Come with me? I want to speak with Emily.” Hermione nodded and followed closely behind Narcissa as she made her way to the other woman’s new little office. She rapped once on the door frame and smiled when Emily looked up.

“Miss Black,” the editor grinned.

“Miss Limus, we wanted to offer our congratulations on the Content Editor position. The Social Section may seem frivolous but I hope you don’t take it that way.”

“What do you mean?” Emily narrowed her eyes.

“Take Kikus, for example,” Narcissa stepped into Emily’s office and leaned back against the doorframe, “I got the distinct impression that he feels attending weddings would be beneath his job as a journalist. That’s what he thinks of as the Social Section of the Prophet.”

“And you?”

“Hermione and I think of Social as events that affect society.”

“But...any event could affect society.”

Hermione and Narcissa simply stared back at Emily as she looked back and forth between them.

“Wow.”

“Quite,” Narcissa answered her quietly. “I hope you realize, we’ve given you a lot of responsibility here, Miss Limus. You have your first choice of those reporters out there. I care not what they think they want to write. If you need them to write or research for you, they’re yours. The Social Section is where we expect to see the most serious articles. Long term pieces following policy changes and politicians. I’d like you to start with a personal favor to me and write about the shake up here at the Prophet. The new layout, the new editing format, all the changes we’ve put in place. If you could talk up all of the local sports insights Matthais is going to print and the international sporting information they’ll get weekly, I think that will be a big bonus for us, as well.”

“As I said before, Miss Black, I’m honored,” Emily repeated. She stood and held out her hand reaching to shake Narcissa’s and Hermione’s. “I’d like to get started on that article because there’s another idea I have for tomorrow’s paper I’d like to get to as well and I want to speak to a few reporters out there. Anything else you’d like me to follow specifically?”

Narcissa pressed her lips together, clearly thinking, “No, I think that’s all for now.”

“I think, if I may?” Hermione spoke quietly, looking at Narcissa.

“Go ahead, darling, you’ll also be an owner as soon as we’re married.”

“I was just going to say, I think you’d find it interesting to track the couples the Ministry has assigned, Miss Limus.”

“Really? I haven’t paid much attention. Are they all that interesting?”

“I should think, for a reporter used to ferreting out all kinds of interesting background information, one would find the Ministry selections interesting. Narcissa and I were not, in fact, initially assigned to one another,” Hermione reached for her fiancée’s hand, “and we had to go to the Ministry and ask permission to get married to one another.”

“I didn’t realize. That is interesting. Maybe I will look into that,” Emily made a note and, using her wand, stuck it to the wall.

“Well, we know you want to get to work, so we won’t keep you any longer. Best of luck in your new position!” The couple smiled and left the small office to make their way through the buzzing newsroom.

There were only a few people huddled in the lobby near Samantha’s desk and the only one speaking was Rita Skeeter. “No, you listen to me, Barnabas Cuffe! If you know what’s good for you, you’ll toss that Death Eater and her little trollop right out the door before you lose the whole lot of us! Do you know how much money I make for this rag? Do you know who I am?”

“No need to shout, Miss Skeeter, everyone in Diagon Alley can hear you. You’re free to go,” Narcissa said calmly, hands linked behind her back. She entered the lobby in front of Hermione.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Rita was red-faced and seething with anger.

“As an owner of the Daily Prophet, in fact, I do. And I am. I’ve never been a fan of your writing technique. I think you’re unnecessarily cruel and you enjoy it, that’s disturbing and it says a lot about you as a human being. The majority ownership of the Daily Prophet no longer wishes to publish your work nor print any advertisements for it. Please vacate the premises. Now.”

Staring so intently at Rita’s eyes, Narcissa hadn’t seen her wand slip into her hand. Rita whipped it toward Hermione as she turned to the door intending to hex the young woman. Narcissa was still quicker and a silent _protego_ shielded the couple just in time. Rita was pushed back several feet and stumbled.

“I’m not sure what you were about to do to Hermione but I would advise you not to attack her again. She’s a strong and independent witch who has faced off against worse than you and came out victorious. I shall not ask again, Rita. Vacate the premises.”

“Adrian!” Rita shouted.

The young man rushed into the lobby, camera around his neck, “what happened? Do you need a photo?”

“No,” Rita answered, “we’re leaving. We don’t work here for these people. We’re freelance journalists, remember. Now, let’s go find a story and send it to every paper that actually sells.”

Barnabas’ jaw clenched and he ground his teeth together. It was one thing to kick out that wretched Rita Skeeter, but he was going to lose his best photographer, too.

“Uh, Rita, I **do** work here. I’m a photographer for the Daily Prophet. This camera? It belongs to the Prophet. That’s why every picture I ever took for you got published here first. I’m actually the lead photographer here going forward, I’ll be assigning the others to the stories that are running.”

“Fine!” She shouted. “The rest of you! Let’s go!”

The small group of freelance journalists huddled together looked back and forth, wide-eyed, from Rita to Narcissa.

“None of you are duty-bound to remain here. Mr. Cuffe and I were going to explain the rates and requirements for freelance writers moving forward but, if you’ve no desire to hear them in person, feel free to follow Ms. Skeeter to another publication. Perhaps the Quibbler pays for articles now?”

“They’re coming with me. I’ve trained them. They can’t write a word without my permission,” Rita smirked.

One woman in the back of the group pushed her way through and spoke up, “To clarify, I believe the agreement was that if we purchased a Quick-Quotes Quill and signed the associated contract, which, incidentally, you basically forced us to do by blackmailing us with various ridiculous personal information, we couldn’t use the Quick-Quotes Quill to write anything without the approval of a certified Quick-Quotes Quill Consultant, which, of course, you just happen to be. Those contracts weren’t everlasting, though, Rita, and they said nothing about writing using other tools or instruments.”

“Ania, of course you side with them,” Rita spat.

Ania rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself. I’m not ‘siding’ with anyone. I thought we were all adults here making our own employment decisions. If you no longer wish to write freelance for the Prophet that’s your call but you don’t own us.”

Adrian slowly lifted his camera and took a photo of the standoff. The flash spurred Rita into action and she stormed out throwing a hearty “you’ll be sorry” over her shoulder as the door closed behind her.

“Well, lead photographer, were you able to sort out the darkroom?” Barnabas asked.

“Yes, sir, the darkroom’s all sorted, we’ve got our desks downstairs, and Gary’s going to be the developer for now. He’s quite good at it - better than the rest of us with the potion.”

“Great, then check in with the Content Editors for tomorrow’s paper,” Cuffe clapped Adrian on the shoulder as the photographer headed back into the newsroom.

“Samantha,” Narcissa said, stepping toward the receptionist’s desk, “is the conference room able to be used right now?”

“Yes! They finished that just as the meeting started. You can fit about fifteen people in there. Do you need any refreshments?”

“Thank you but no, we’ll be quick. We will need some contracts drawn up this evening, though, and ready to be signed in the morning. Can you owl the Prophet’s barrister and let him or her know?” Samantha nodded and Narcissa stood up and clapped her hands once to get the attention of the writers still milling about. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please head into the conference room just through the newsroom there and have a seat, Mr. Cuffe will be outlining the rates and requirements for freelance journalists for the Daily Prophet.”

Once the lobby was empty of everyone but Samantha, Narcissa, and Hermione, the receptionist spoke again, “Miss Black!”

“What is it, Samantha? I knew something was wrong.”

“The Prophet couldn’t afford to keep a barrister on retainer anymore. We don’t have anyone to write up the new contracts tonight,” she whispered just loudly enough for the other two to hear.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll figure it out, Samantha. Don’t worry,” Narcissa smiled and patted the other woman’s hand. “Now, I’m just going to pop into Barnabas’ meeting with the freelancers and then Hermione and I will be on our way. We have so much to do for the wedding.” Narcissa couldn’t help but look at Hermione as she said that.

Hermione smiled at her, surprisingly content to spend her afternoon enjoying Narcissa’s display of power, grace, and savvy. “I’ll wait right here.”

Narcissa was glad she stepped into the meeting. 

“That wraps it up I think,” Barnabas said, standing from the head of the table.

“Great!” Narcissa exclaimed. “You covered the fee per article, photo, and interview?”

“We did,” he agreed.

“You went over the affidavit they will sign when they submit anything that certifies that they have followed the five principles of ethical journalism?

“We did,” he laughed a little and agreed again.

“And you explained that we will only print them twice a week maximum?”

“Oh, I did forget that bit,” he winked at her, knowing he forgot that bit on purpose.

Two of the writers who had already stood from their chairs dropped back down quickly.

“Wait just a second here,” a journalist, Jamison Wolfe, spoke up, “that’s a huge change!”

“It really is!” Ania agreed. “We can’t make nearly what we’ve made in the past if we can only print with you twice a week.”

Narcissa steepled her fingers under her chin nodding and listening to their complaints around the table. Barnabas was getting upset and his reddening cheeks were a clear giveaway.

“I’m hearing,” Narcissa said quietly, so they’d all have to stop speaking to listen to her, “that you want to keep making the same amount of money as before. Is that true?”

They all agreed it was.

“If you want to make as much as a contracted employee makes, you must also be a contracted employee. That means you show up here, at the Prophet, every day for work. You write the articles which are assigned to you - big or small, glorious or not. You get printed every day. You make more money. Unfortunately, we do not have immediate openings for twelve new reporters. We can immediately hire six of you if some of you are willing to work in capacities other than reporting. In a month, possibly less, we can hire more.”

The room fell silent. They had expected her to cave. 

“If you’ll wait here for a few minutes, Mr. Cuffe and I can step out and have a discussion. Then he can make some decisions and let you know where the paper stands. Mr. Cuffe?”

“After you, Miss Black.”

The two of them crossed the newsroom where everyone was seated at a desk typing away and Emily Limus was scribbling on various pieces of parchment and attaching them to owls as quickly as she could. It looked like the Prophet would be making yet another come back.

Barnabas closed the door behind them once they were in his office.

“Narcissa, I have to tell you, I never thought this would work. When you and Hermione came in at half past two with this crazy idea I thought every last one of them was going to quit but look at that! They’re working!”

“Barnabas, I’m about to make a terrible, horrible, absolutely disastrous financial decision. I’m not even going to consult with my fiancée who should rightly be furious with me about what I’m going to do.”

His face went pale. He was worried that she was going to cut her losses and walk away from the Prophet, convinced it was beyond saving. “What?” he whispered.

“I’m going to offer you the money to pay everyone’s salary for the next two months. We’re going to sign a contract that the Prophet will pay me back every single knut, with no interest at all, over the next five or ten or twenty years but, I’m going to lay this money down now. The Prophet is worth saving but, in order to do it right, we need writers. We need every single one of those journalists who thinks they’re freelance authors to settle in here and write for the Prophet. That’s going to fill this paper every day. That gives you room to move good writers to the front page and give the Senior Reporter privileges and get rid of the bad ones. That’s how you get interns and Junior Reporters in the door and grow the newspaper business.”

“Are you sure, Narcissa? You’re about to get married, can you afford that?”

“Yes. I’m sure. We can afford it. By December, the Prophet will be bringing in enough money that you won’t need mine anymore and you can start to pay me back and start looking for the next Editor-in-Chief.”

Barnabas stood behind his desk. Narcissa stood in front.

“Deal?” she asked, reaching her hand out.

“Deal,” he answered, shaking on it.

“Where are we going to put all those desks?” Narcissa asked laughing.

Barnabas just looked at her curiously. “You know there’s a second floor, Narcissa, right?”

It became obvious she did not. Narcissa joined Barnabas in offering the entire slate of freelancers positions as Prophet reporters and was pleased when they all accepted.

“May I speak with you Miss Black,” Jamison Wolfe asked.

“Certainly,” she said, indicating that they could step back into the empty conference room.

“I’m grateful that we’re all getting the opportunity to join the Prophet as full time writers. That being said, however, I wonder if it may be possible for me to sign a monthly contract as opposed to an annual contract. I just, I don’t want to be tied here for a year if I end up hating it.”

Narcissa pursed her lips and then tapped the fingers of her left hand against them, thinking. “Hmm, I understand your concern, Jamison, however, I’m not sure that a monthly contract in this type of newsroom would be appropriate. I would say, let’s start with a one month contract, if, after a month, you hate it, then, we’re done. You may leave with no breach of contract and go back to freelancing.”

“As much as I want?” He grinned a handsome little smile.

“Sure,” Narcissa smiled back, “you may write as much as your heart desires.” He smiled fully at her, stepping closer. “But the Prophet will only publish two pieces a week. If, after that first month you find that you like having a steady job and income, you may sign a three month contract. Then a six month contract. Then an annual contract. We will not sign more than one single month contract with you. A word to the wise, it may not seem like I have much experience in the business world, Jamison, but I have plenty of experience with men like you trying to manipulate me. It won’t work. Have a lovely day,” Narcissa smiled again and left him alone in the conference room.

“Ready to go, darling,” Narcissa asked Hermione when she finally made her way back to the lobby.

“I am,” Hermione smiled, “I popped over to Flourish and Blotts while I waited and picked up a book I think I’ll need to work with Professor Flitwick so don’t look so sorry for me.”

“You know me too well,” Narcissa kissed the other woman quickly. Once they were outside, Narcissa’s arm tucked into Hermione’s elbow, Narcissa leaned down a little and spoke again, “I must confess, my hand is a little bit sore. Would you mind terribly simply going back to the Manor for the evening to relax? We could get that study all set up for you while I put some ice on my hand.”

“That sounds absolutely wonderful,” Hermione agreed.

Narcissa wasted no time Apparating them outside the Manor gates and, once they had stepped inside and closed the door behind them, wrapped her arms tightly around Hermione’s waist.

Hermione returned the gesture with gusto and wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s shoulders, pressing her hand to the back of Narcissa’s head to hold her in place.

“I know I’ve said a lot about waiting until we’re married for anything physical to happen between us.”

“You have. And I’ve agreed. Having you in my arms is heaven and, honestly, I’m really enjoying the opportunity to just appreciate holding you with no additional pressure.”

“So, what I’m about to say next is going to sound crazy.”

Hermione laughed a little into Narcissa’s neck, “go ahead. Hit me with the crazy.”

“I feel gross. I feel like I have a coat of newsroom and street grit on me and I want to take a bath.”

“That doesn’t sound crazy, Cissa.”

“With you.”

Hermione could hear the blood pounding through her ears. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Still, not crazy. Just...unexpected. I don’t know how we can get in a bathtub together and not have things escalate to a more physical level than we’re ready for.”

“Well,” Narcissa kissed the corner of Hermione’s mouth, “you’ve never seen my bathtub.” Narcissa stepped back, taking one of Hermione’s clammy palms in her own and led the younger woman up the stairs, down the hall, and into her rooms.

“I’ve been in here,” Hermione said quietly.

“I know,” Narcissa answered as she silently summoned two bathrobes into her unoccupied hand. “You’ve been in here, as well.” Narcissa opened the door into the attached restroom. Hermione followed her in.

“I have. I still don’t see a bathtub.”

Narcissa pressed a circle in the design near the edge of the wall and a ring tilted out, she grasped it and used it to slide a panel door sideways one full door frame, then another, and another, and another until there was a rather large opening with a hot tub sized bath in the floor on the other side.

“Now I do. Wow, Narcissa, that’s amazing.”

“If we do this respectfully, we can keep our bodies as private as we wish and still share a bath together. Are you interested?”

Looking into the tub, Hermione saw two very comfortable looking seat wells across from each other. They could have intimate conversation and only touch one another if they chose to.

“Of course, I’m interested, Narcissa. I’m trying to decide if I have the self-control and restraint to be that close to your body.”

“Hermione, of course you do. If I look at you and say that I don’t want to do anything more physical than kiss, would you force me to do something for which I’m not ready?”

“Never.”

“There you go.”

Hermione smiled softly at Narcissa and leaned in to kiss the woman who had more faith in her than she did in herself sometimes. “How shall we do this?”

“Hmm, I’ll get the bath all set while you go into the bedroom and, um, get undressed and put your robe on. Come back when you’re ready.”

A few moments later, Hermione re-entered the bathroom with her bathrobe tied in front of her and her curly hair piled messily atop her head in a bun.

“You look adorable,” Narcissa grinned, kissing her fiancée. “Now, I’m going to go change and you can climb in and get comfortable and be under the cover of the bubbles before I get back.”

Hermione did just that, listening to the sounds of Narcissa taking off her robes, humming as she moved around the bedroom.

“Keep your eyes closed, darling, if you don’t mind while I climb in, okay?” Narcissa asked Hermione who was resting with her head back against the side of the tub. Hermione’s eyes remained closed so Narcissa dropped her robe and stepped into the almost-too-hot water, knowing it was going to hurt the bruises she had gotten earlier in the day. “Okay, darling, you can open them.”

Hermione didn’t answer.

“Hermione?”

No answer again.

Narcissa, uncomfortable and slightly worried, sat up to look more closely at Hermione. The younger woman had wedged herself carefully into the well on the side of the tub. Her head was resting on a pillowed cushion and her body arranged to keep her face above the surface...and she was sound asleep with a sweet little smile upon her face. Narcissa couldn’t help but smile in response, happy that Hermione felt so safe and cared for she could fall asleep in the bath listening to Narcissa in the other room.

Narcissa found Hermione’s hand underwater and twined their fingers together once more before she, too, closed her eyes for a little while.


	20. A time for peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not really a chapter...it's more of a passing thought...I just wanted to get it out there. Happy Sunday night! *mwah*

Hermione stretched her neck and turned her head to look at Narcissa, “this is insanely comfortable. How do you not spend every afternoon here?”

“What makes you think I don’t?” She smirked and flicked a bit of water at the other woman.

Hermione laughed, “I guess that’s a good point but you’ve been spending most of your afternoons with me lately and we haven’t been in the tub together before now, so, that makes me think you don’t.”

Narcissa’s smile gentled a bit and she just looked at Hermione, “you’re right. I do like to come here and soak when I’ve something on my mind. If I close the door and let the room steam up a bit with a few candles it’s perfect for me to think through whatever may be going on. Though I think this is the first time I’ve ever fallen asleep in the water.”

“That’s good. Doesn’t seem like the smartest thing to do by oneself. I wouldn't have felt safe enough to relax that much if you weren’t about to come in.” Hermione gently squeezed the hand entwined in her own.

Narcissa, looking intently into Hermione’s eyes, was quiet for a long moment. “You...you really feel safe with me, Hermione? Truly?”

“I do.”

Narcissa smiled, ear to ear, it lit up her whole face, “You just keep practicing that. You’ll be ready in three months, one week and six days.”

“I don’t need to practice, Cissa. I could say it tomorrow.”

“Do you know I physically feel it when you say things like that to me? My heart does this funny thing and it kind of drops and squeezes and stops and pounds all at the same time. My head goes light.”

Hermione, eyes shining with tears, leaned forward to kiss her fiancée.

“No. You stop right there. I’m not kissing you naked in a bathtub. I’ll never be able to stop with a kiss and I’m not ready to go further than that.”

“Right. Right,” Hermione agreed breathing heavily. “Right. I just. Let’s get out then so I can kiss you and...and hold you. I need to hug you, Narcissa. Okay?”

“Yes,” Narcissa whispered, her pupils wide, breath fast, she nodded. “No,” she shook her head. “I want to wash my hair and I haven’t actually bathed, Hermione,” she laughed, “we’ve just sat in the tub. There’s a flannel next to you on your towel you can use, and here I’ll bring over some soaps.” Narcissa silently summoned a tray of bathing essentials from a shelf Hermione hadn’t noticed. “You’re, of course, welcome to use anything you like. We have very different hair types but you can try my shampoo and conditioner. There are a few different body washes and facial cleansers there as well.” Narcissa blushed, “I tend to choose a different scent depending on how I’m feeling that day.”

“I haven’t noticed that,” Hermione smiled quizzically as she sniffed each soap bottle choosing the scent she recognized as the one Narcissa had been using recently, lavender and vanilla with just a hint of clove. Hermione put some on the cloth she was using and set the bottle back on the tray, noticing out the corner of her eye that Narcissa picked it up right after her. “I’m not going to wash my hair, so I’ll be done in a minute and you’ll have more space to wash yours.”

“Alright, darling. I’m facing away, so you can climb out whenever you like, I won’t peek,” Narcissa said, the smirk clear in her voice.

Hermione chuckled and finished up, dipping beneath the water up to her neck to rinse off. “Ugh, this bathtub is divine, Narcissa. Is the tub charmed or do you charm the water to keep the temperature this warm the whole time? And the bubbles, how are there still so many?”

Narcissa was taking her time washing and smiled, explaining that the bathtub itself had been charmed and that she used a very particular bubble solution from a shop in Edinburgh that was well known to maintain it’s bubbles until the bath was drained and only then would the bubbles dissolve.

“Brilliant,” Hermione said from somewhere near the door, Narcissa could tell. She sunk lower into the tub and turned to look at Hermione. “I’m just going to wash and condition my hair before I drain the tub. It’ll take a few minutes.”

Hermione grinned and nodded, off to find comfortable clothing for a quiet evening in the manor together. By the time Narcissa came out of the bathroom, Hermione was wearing what looked to be Narcissa’s oldest sweater and tartan pants Narcissa had never seen before.

“Where on earth did you get those?”

“Um, well, you said I could look in the closet or in the chest and I found this sweater buried in the chest and it looked like you don’t often wear it so it might be oka-”

Narcissa interrupted her with a kiss.

“I don’t mind you wearing my sweater. I like it. Probably more than I should. It simply caught me off guard; I was wondering where you found the pants. I don’t think I have anything like that.”

“You don’t,” Hermione blushed. “I hope it’s okay, I asked Pepper if she wouldn’t mind popping into my room at the flat and grabbing a few pairs of these for me. She said of course and did it immediately.”

“That was a good idea. If Pepper was unavailable, you could also have used the Floo.”

“I know but I was actually trying to avoid putting my dirty clothes back on,” Hermione laughed, “I don’t think the mines of Gringotts or the newsroom of the Prophet made for the least smelly day we’ve had together.”

“Quite right,” Narcissa nodded, lifting the lid on the chest to find a sweater for herself.

“Um, I pulled out a sweater for you if you like and I have a pair of these pants there with them,” Hermione said, pointing to a neatly folded pile on the bed. A dark green, slightly oversized sweater and gray plaid flannel pyjama pants along with a simple white shirt to go underneath sat there if Narcissa wanted them. “I did not, of course, go through your drawers for any socks or undergarments; that felt a bit like an invasion of your privacy.”

“That was thoughtful, Hermione, thank you. You do look rather comfortable, I think I will put this on.” Narcissa picked up the stack and stopped at her chest of drawers to select a pair of black silk panties and thick green socks to go with it. She took note of Hermione’s burning red cheeks as she walked away. “I’ll just be a moment behind the screen dear.”

With Narcissa behind the screen, Hermione took a moment to fan her face to attempt to dispel some of the heat there. _Goodness, they were just a pair of underpants, Hermione, get a grip._

“Narcissa, could we go over some ideas for our wedding this evening? Maybe talk about who could be the officiant?”

“Absolutely, Hermione,” Narcissa answered immediately. A few moments later she stepped out from behind the screen in her sweater and flannel pants, running a paddle brush through her long, beautiful hair. “Before we go down to the study, though, I believe you said something a little while ago about holding one another?”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded, watching Narcissa move closer and closer. The older woman set her brush down on her dresser and reached out for Hermione’s hands. “Darling?”

“Yes,” Hermione whispered.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“After this morning, I was so worried we wouldn’t find this balance again. I was so scared I’d ruined this by being so cold. That I’d broken this connection by being too distant. When you were able to talk to me and be honest with me about how you were feeling, when you were still able to smile at me and spend the day with me and let me sit with my arms around you at Gringotts and hold your hand in Diagon Alley...it meant...I don’t know if I can find words for what it meant, Hermione. To be trusted by you. It meant...it means...just...everything. Please, can we just lie down together and hold one another for a little while tonight before we work on the wedding?”

Hermione said nothing, not able to trust her voice, instead she led Narcissa to the bed and, once they were right next to it, pulled the other woman to her for a kiss. She turned them, so Narcissa’s back was to the bed and gently leaned the other woman back until she had no choice but to sit or fall. Narcissa sat, her hands on Hermione’s waist, looking up at the younger woman.

“Slide back,” Hermione whispered, “I’ll get a blanket.”

The tears spilled over then. Just a few. Not sad tears, not even happy ones. Just, extra feelings that couldn’t stay inside. The women met in the middle of the large, soft bed, surrounded by pillows and under a blanket. They lay facing one another, holding silent eye contact. Communicating a lifetime of thoughts without a single word. Hermione slid her hand down Narcissa’s arm to rest on her hip and pulled the other woman closer; to keep her balance, Narcissa’s legs tangled between Hermione’s. She reached around her young fiancée to press her hand to the small of Hermione’s back, keeping her near.

They shared a kiss, chaste, gentle, soft. 

Their foreheads touched.

They rested.


	21. In the garden

Hermione met Harry in the kitchen Wednesday morning for tea, smiling brightly. “You and Narcissa made the Prophet again this morning,” he said, sliding the paper across the table. 

There they were, lead article, above the fold. The photo had been taken in the Prophet newsroom which was a bit...odd.

“Funny, isn’t it? The Daily Prophet making themselves front page news?” Hermione commented, tossing the paper back on the table. She wanted to pour a cup of tea before she read the write up.

“Is it true, though? Did you two cause this shake up?”

“I don’t know, Harry, I haven’t read it, yet. I did go to the Prophet with Narcissa yesterday when we finished our business at Gringotts. You can see that in the photograph. Narcissa looks good in those robes, doesn’t she? Even in a black and white photo, green is her color.”

Laughing, Harry waved his hand between Hermione and the paper she was staring at, “Focus, Hermione. We were talking about the article, not your good looking girl.”

“Just stating facts,” she shrugged as she sat down. “Also, she’s a woman, not a girl. Fill me in on what the article says. I just woke up.”

“Okay, this, uh, Emily Limus-”

“Oh, good, Emily wrote it. She’s the new Content Editor of the Social Section for the Daily Prophet.”

“Right. Well, she pretty much just outlined what Narcissa did yesterday. Limited freelance writers at the Prophet. Assigned Editors, reporters, and photographers to different sections of the paper. Offered suggestions for the weekly, semi-weekly, or bi-weekly columns she wanted to see. The biggest section of her article was devoted to interviews with other journalists from the paper, actually. She asked them how they felt about no longer being contractually able to use shotcut enabling tools to write their articles for them.”

Hermione sat up straighter and stared at Harry. That had been the biggest challenge yesterday and last night, when Narcissa had finally gotten an owl back from her personal barrister, Mister Wilfred Harrington the Eighth, it was also the most difficult part of the contract to draw up. “What did they say to that?”

“Most of them said things like, ‘it’s going to take longer but that’s what we get paid for’ or ‘there are no shortcuts to true success’. One of them, Trecus, the writer for the Decree section, said using a Quick-Quotes Quill is like taking the Draught of Living Death on purpose, you give up the free will you have to write in your own style just to get the words down faster.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hermione sighed. “I didn’t even realize I was worried about how they were going to react but obviously I was.”

“Just so you know, there was one voice of dissent.”

“That’s good, truly. It doesn’t seem realistic if there’s no disagreement. I’m sure I could guess who it was, too.”

“Go ahead,” Harry grinned, looking at Hermione.

“Jamison Wolfe.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor. How’d you know?”

“He was the only freelancer who made a big fuss about the changes. The actual Prophet employees were really happy to have a functional newsroom back. They may not all have been thrilled with their placement in it but they liked having a hierarchy in place again. Then the freelance writers were told that they could write two articles a week max for the Prophet, they were all unhappy with that.”

“Why?”

“Freelance writers get paid per article. If you’re a freelance journalist in the British wizarding community there’s really only one place to get paid for your work frequently and that’s the Daily Prophet. But it had gotten to the point where writers were putting out two stories a day in the Prophet and being paid as freelancers. There just weren’t enough people to staff the papers and write the boring, important stories because everyone was freelancing and only writing what they wanted to.”

“So, Narcissa ended that?”

“So, Narcissa and Barnabas Cuffe capped what they would print from freelance journalists per week and offered all of the journalists on site yesterday a one year contract with the Daily Prophet.”

“Rita Skeeter?”

“She had already left,” Hermione smirked. “In fact, that’s probably in the Personal Interest section with a photo of her stomping her pointy-toed snakeskin shoes.”

“She didn’t.”

“She did. She actually kind of threatened me, I think? Narcissa very calmly, truly she stayed very calm, asked her to please vacate the premises and Rita was apparently very offended and whipped out her wand and turned on me.”

“Oh, my, Merlin. What did Narcissa do?”

“I think she cast a silent _protego_. Then she advised Rita never to attack me again because I am a strong and independent witch who had faced off against worse than her and came out victorious,” Hermione tried to hide her smile behind her teacup.

“Ugh,” Harry dropped his forehead to his arms on the table, “you guys are the cutest. I hope Ginny looks like that when she talks about me.”

Hermione reached out and gripped one of Harry’s arms, “I promise she does, Harry. You’re doing the right thing not getting married to Padma. Not just defying the Ministry but because you and Ginny are so good together.”

“I hope so, Hermione. Here, look at the Decree section. Trecus has printed some interesting information today.”

“I’ll look in a minute. I wanted to talk to you about something, actually,” Hermione said, pulling one foot up onto her chair to hug her knee to her chest. Harry recognized it as her emotional conversation pose.

He nodded at her to continue.

“Well, a few things, I guess but, um, first. Well. I know you’re not a girl,” she blushed.

“Caught on, have you?” He teased.

“Oh, shut it,” she covered her eyes with one hand, embarrassed. “What I mean to say is this, Narcissa and I are both fairly traditional women who are actually having a fairly traditional wedding. There are a few spots, however, that we are planning to bend a few. One such tradition being the wedding party. Neither of us wants to stand up there with a group of women, nor do either of us have only women in our lives who would hold those roles.”

“Hermione, are you asking me to be your Maid of Honour?”

“Technically, I think I’m asking you to be my Best Man? But Narcissa and I were just going to go with the term ‘Wedding Party’ if that’s okay?”

“Of course. I love you. I am honoured to be asked to stand with you at your wedding.”

“Yeah?” Hermione asked, her eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” Harry answered quietly, reaching out for her hand. Hermione grasped his hand quickly.

“I’m getting married, Harry,” she whispered, “like, for real. You and Andy will be the Witnesses, I think. You’ll have to sign our Marriage Certificate.”

“You mean I’ll **get** to sign your Marriage Certificate. I’m really honoured and touched to do this Hermione.”

Her tears spilled over. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and wiped them quickly away. “I don’t want to cry now,” she laughed, “Narcissa’s going to be here soon and she’ll think I was upset.”

“Ha!” Harry said loudly.

Hermione jumped, dropping her teacup onto the table, “What?”

“This is awesome! I get to plan your Hen party! Yes! Oh, Hermione, this is going to be so much fun!”

Just then, the kitchen door pushed open and Narcissa stepped in, “I hear we’re planning Hen parties now?”

“Yes,” Harry laughed. “Hermione’s asked me to be her Maid of Honour so I get to plan her Hen party!”

Hermione, chuckling, just smiled and shrugged. “I did not, in fact, ask him to be my Maid of Honor. I asked him to be in my half of the Wedding Party. He took the Maid of Honour part and ran with it.”

Stopping next to Harry on her way to Hermione’s side, Narcissa laid her hand on his shoulder and asked, “Harry, you truly accept? You’re going to be a Witness at our wedding?”

“All joking aside, I truly accept. As I told Hermione, I’m deeply touched to be asked to take part in your wedding and will be honoured to sign my name beside Andromeda’s as a Witness.”

Narcissa squeezed his shoulder just a bit, “thank you. We’re very honoured you said yes.” As Narcissa made her way around Hermione’s chair to sit next to her she leaned down to kiss her fiancée good morning. “Still want to go today?”

“Yes. If you’re so adamant that I have to choose another flower I want to look at them all.”

Harry just looked back and forth between the women, confused.

“I’m sure you realized there’s quite a lot of planning that has to go into a large wedding like the one we’re going to have, right?” Narcissa asked Harry.

“Of course. And flowers are part of that because you both carry a bouquet, right?”

“Yes, and flowers are a traditional decoration in the ceremony and at the reception. Hermione keeps insisting that daffodils are her favorite flower,” Narcissa rolled her eyes.

“They are!” Hermione said forcefully.

“She has always liked daffodils, I remember in our first year, Hermione, you had pyjamas with daffodils on them.” Harry tilted his head, his eyes going up to the ceiling, clearly remembering a young, twelve year old Hermione in her flowered pyjamas in the Gryffindor common room. “I don’t understand, though, what’s the prob...oh.” Harry smiled. “Hermione, think about those pyjamas of yours.”

“Harry, you’re so weird. I haven’t had those pyjamas in six years. Nearly seven.”

Harry looked carefully at Narcissa, wondering why she didn’t just tell Hermione. Narcissa shrugged subtly, her cheeks a little pink.

“Okay, well, have fun at whatever flowery place you’re going today,” Harry said standing up to rinse his teacup out in the sink. “Was there something else you wanted to ask me, Hermione?”

Hermione was still looking back and forth between Harry and Narcissa, narrow-eyed, aware she had missed something. “Yes, there was another discussion I wanted to have...and I guess it’s good Narcissa’s here now, too. Um, Harry, have you thought about what you’re going to do after I get married? I mean, with the flat? Do you want to stay here and take in a different roommate or maybe move to Grimmauld Place?”

“I have been thinking about it, Hermione, don’t worry. It actually seems a little, I don’t know, wasteful to me now to keep the flat. At first I liked it, and I know you did, too, because we’re so anonymous here. The only person who knew where we lived was Ron, no wizards live near here, it’s a totally muggle neighborhood and it’s been a good reprieve. But, I think I’m ready to be back in the Wizarding community again.”

“Mmm, I’d say that’s reasonable. After the first eighteen years of your life, Mister Potter, you were entitled to a little downtime.”

Harry smiled, “always the understatement from you, Narcissa.”

“We all have our talents.”

Hermione just rolled her eyes between them. “I don’t know then, that Grimmauld Place is the house you want to live in. It’s not quite the center of wizarding fun.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too. Um. So, Narcissa, you, Draco, Andromeda, and Teddy are, as far as I know, the only living descendents of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Grimmauld Place should belong to the four of you. Draco should never have to live in Malfoy Manor again if he doesn’t want to.”

Narcissa didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. She knew if she tried to speak she would cry. Instead, she reached over and twined her fingers through Hermione’s hand and squeezed, trying to encourage Hermione to speak for her.

“Harry,” Hermione said, “where will you live?”

“Where I’ve always wanted to, Hermione.”

“Godric’s Hollow.”

He just nodded. “I need to. I’ve always needed to. Kreacher is working on cleaning up Grimmauld Place - really cleaning it, not just moving dust from room to room. When I told him I was going to try to bring the House of Black back into Grimmauld Place he cried.”

Narcissa cleared her throat, then repeated the action. “Harry,” she paused, “I have lived on this earth for thirty-six years and I have never, **ever** met anyone as kind or as thoughtful as you are. And I just can’t understand it. After the life you’ve led, to still be so selfless. You’re a godsend, Harry, and I’m so thankful you’ve been in Hermione’s life and that now you’re in mine.”

He just blushed in response and looked down at the table.

“I can’t imagine Andy will want to leave her cottage,” Hermione said, “Ted lived there with her and it’s filled with memories of him.”

“And I’d like to stay at Black Manor. Would you?” Narcissa asked Hermione.

“Yes, of course.”

“So, you’ll just have to ask Draco, Harry,” Narcissa grinned at him. “It should come from you.”

“I don’t want it to seem like pity or something, though. It isn’t. I just want to do what’s right. And, I don’t want to live at Grimmauld Place without Sirius.”

Hermione leaned toward Narcissa to rest her head on the other woman’s shoulder, “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Harry. I know Draco was really worried about Dean having to go back to Malfoy Manor. He’ll probably be really happy with another option.”

“Before we go,” Narcissa interjected, “I wanted to bring up just one more thing.”

Harry and Hermione looked at Narcissa.

“I, um, I told Hermione yesterday but, eh, I had a little incident, let’s say, in Diagon Alley. People don’t, um, think I should be walking around free, as it were. I think, really, most people have absolutely no idea what actually happened last spring and even leading up to it.”

“Yeah, I mean, the Order only had so many folks in it and you had to know the password to listen to Potterwatch. They weren’t exactly handing out flyers in the Leaky Cauldron announcing their plans,” Harry teased a little.

“Of course,” Narcissa swallowed, wringing her hands, “I just mean, I think we should tell people. We should tell them what happened. How can we stop it happening again if they don’t know how it happened this time?”

“Like write a book?” Hermione asked.

“No. I’m sure there are an awful lot of witches and wizards already trying that; we know Rita is. I mean, a daily column in the Prophet or the Quibbler or both or a separate daily paper for a few months. A profile a day of someone who was in the Order or who fought against Voldemort. Starting with you, Harry.”

“Don’t start with me. People are sick of me,” Harry shook his head, groaning.

“If Rita’s really publishing a book on you soon like she says she is, now is the best time to actually tell your version of your life. And it wouldn’t be a bad place to start...October thirty-first, 1981. Skip ahead a few years to Quirrel. Then Lucius’ part in opening the Chamber of Secrets. Then-”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Narcissa interrupted.

“The Chamber of Secrets? At Hogwarts? It’s not just a myth. We’ve been there. The monster was a basilisk and it petrified me during second year. Thankfully, I’d already discovered what it was in a book in the library and was peeking around corners with a mirror or I’d be dead,” Hermione said very nonchalantly, as one does.

“There are so many disturbing parts of what you just said,” Narcissa replied quietly.

Hermione tilted her head, smiling sadly at Narcissa. She raised the other woman’s chin until their faces were level and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I know it sounds disturbing but when you live through harrowing adventures year after year you forget how often you’ve defied death and it just becomes a part of how you live. From your perspective, though, I can see how it sounds terrifying.”

“Also, my ex-husband had something to do with you almost dying before we even met. If the basilisk had gotten you then, I wouldn’t be marrying you now. That’s…” Narcissa held her breath and shook her head, trying to force the thoughts to go away.

“That’s a road you can’t go down. Every day a thousand little things could change and cause a million different outcomes. We never know what those choices are or what differences they could cause in our lives, we just live.” Hermione held Narcissa’s face in her hands and kissed her, letting Narcissa lose herself for a long moment. “Okay now?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It all just got too big,” Narcissa said.

“I understand. Harry, I think your story should go first but maybe don’t go back to 1981. Let’s just stick to being on the run after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, through the Battle of Hogwarts. Narcissa, did you have a writer in mind?”

“Actually, I do. He’s retired now but widely considered one of the best journalists in the wizarding world, Augustus Filhous. If you two will agree to be interviewed, I’ll send a few more owls out today and contact Mister Filhous about being a Special Contributor for the Prophet. What do you think?”

“Do it,” Hermione answered right away.

“On one condition,” Harry said, leaning back with his arms crossed.

Narcissa smirked at him, glancing quickly at Hermione before she answered, “And what might that be?”

“You’re one of the first five interviews, Narcissa.”

“What? Harry, no. That’s not why I’m doing this,” she insisted.

“Then I’m not doing it either. Interviews go like this; Me, Hermione, You, Neville, Minerva, Ron, Lee, Kingsley, George, then whomever else you want. Ginny maybe, she resisted from inside Hogwarts. The rest of the Weasleys if you’re feeling magnanimous. Oh, Bill and Fleur definitely should be interviewed, actually, they did a lot. Hagrid, absolutely. He belongs up there. Aberforth, for sure, we need to show the resistance happened everywhere. Some other professors. Madam Pomfrey, she healed a lot of damaged folks after those battles. Mafalda Hopkirk maybe? Andy? She lost her husband, daughter, and son-in-law and helped a whole crew of us escape Voldemort. Ollivander. Definitely Ollivander. And Luna. And Draco.”

“I completely, totally, one hundred percent agree with Harry. You have to be on that list and you must be near the top. I would interview Narcissa, Neville, Professor McGonagall, and Kingsley before me, Harry.”

“Hermione, no. You’re way off. I wouldn’t have survived five minutes without you. You weren’t just the Brains of the Trio but the courage, loyalty, and glue as well.”

“Oh, Harry, thank you,” Hermione whispered, trying not to cry.

“Narcissa,” Harry turned back to her, “the world needs to know what you did. If you can do it, if you can tell them what Lucius and Voldemort and Bellatrix did to you, how they locked you up, kept you from knowing what was going on, and you still had the bravery to lie to the most powerful Legilimens in the world successfully, it would help a lot of people. Also, it’s okay if you don’t want to help a lot of people, but you know who else it would help?” Harry looked right into Narcissa’s eyes.

She nodded and answered, “Hermione.”

“Harry! Don’t do that to her. Narcissa, don’t do this for me. If you’re not comfortable with this, don’t do it.”

“I’ll do it,” Narcissa said. “We’ll all do it. It’s good for the community, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. That’s all settled, then. I believe my fiancée and I have a date at the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew followed by lunch at La Maison du Steak in Cambridge and a tour of the Cambridge University Botanic Garden given by their leading Professor of Herbology.” Narcissa stood, offering her hand to Hermione who took it and didn’t let go.

“I know this is for research purposes so I can choose a different flower or bunch of flowers but, when you say the way you did, it just sounds awfully romantic,” she said to Narcissa.

“That wasn’t an accident. A trip to the Botanic Gardens with your betrothed should be romantic,” Narcissa kissed Hermione. 

They said their goodbyes to Harry and made their way outside to Apparate to Kew Garden.

After meandering through the paths and trails at Kew for over an hour, Hermione stopped in the middle of a bridge and turned to Narcissa, wrapping her arms around Narcissa’s waist. “This is a perfect way to spend a day.”

“I, too, am quite enjoying it.”

“I have to say, though, I haven’t seen a single daffodil, or really any kind of flower I might choose for our wedding.”

“No, I think we’ll have to look at the plants inside the glasshouse for that. Shall we make our way over?” Narcissa raised her eyebrows and looked in the direction of the large glass building Hermione had seen when they arrived.

“Yes, let’s. I’m getting hungry,” she laughed. “Can I steal a kiss, first, though?”

“You must, in fact,” Narcissa kissed Hermione, “we’re on a bridge and engaged to be married after all!”

“What?” Hermione laughed, kissing Narcissa again before wrapping her arm around Narcissa’s waist and starting the long walk toward the glasshouse.

“Don’t you know that superstition?”

Still giggling, Hermione answered that clearly she did not.

“When crossing a bridge, on top or below, you must have a kiss or separate ways you shall go.”

“I’ve definitely never heard that!”

“You went to Hogwarts! How many times did you cross the Hogwarts bridge with boys and not once did they try to steal a kiss from you with that rhyme?”

“Harry and Ron didn’t acknowledge that I was a girl until December of our fourth year, Narcissa. I wasn’t exactly a little miss popular. We weren’t all tall, gorgeous, blue-eyed models, you know,” Hermione pinched Narcissa’s side.

“You don’t have to be tall and blue-eyed to be gorgeous, Hermione. Every time I look at you, you take my breath away,” Narcissa said earnestly

Hermione stopped walking and bit her lip. “I can’t decide if it’s better or worse for you to say those things to me in public,” she kissed Narcissa.

“Probably better,” Narcissa grinned. “Come on, the glasshouse is just around the corner.”

As they stepped inside a few minutes later, Hermione was immediately awed by the flowers.

“Oh, that’s such a beautiful flower, nigella damascena, it looks so interesting.”

“Yes, it’s also called love-in-a-mist and there’s a legend that this misty foliage is reminiscent of the green hair of the water nymph who seduced and drowned an emperor leading an army during the crusades. This plant is said to have grown at the place of his death. Though in the language of flowers, it means harmonious love and represents that which bonds people together.”

Hermione’s mouth was hanging open. “I had no idea you knew so much about plants.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I liked to read. Have you any idea how much time, literally how many hours I’ve spent alone in a Manor house with an inexhaustible library? Years, darling. Years.”

Hermione just smiled and tucked her hand into Narcissa’s elbow to walk arm in arm with her fiancée through the flowers.

“See anything you like as much as your daffodils?”

“Not yet,” Hermione smiled as they rounded a curve, “Oh! But I do see my daffodils right there!” She let go of Narcissa and walked toward the plaque with information about daffodils on it. Hermione stopped short and turned to look accusingly at Narcissa. “Really?”

“Are you mad?”

“I don’t think so. Just. I can’t believe I had no idea!”

“I can’t either. The first time you said it, I thought you were just being sweet. Then you said it again and I thought well, maybe she just thinks it’s cute now or something. Then I finally realized you didn’t know.”

“I just never even thought about it. In my mind everyone in the Black family is named after a constellation or a star. I never even considered another possibility.”

Narcissa slowly shrugged her shoulders, tilted her head and said, “I’m unique?”

“Also, though? It kind of makes my heart melt a little. Is that too weird?”

“Why?” Narcissa stepped up to Hermione so she could place a kiss on the other woman’s head.

“Without even knowing what your name meant, daffodils were already my favorite flower. Now, it just makes even more sense. It’s just...it’s so perfect. I agree, though. We won’t use them to decorate. I can understand why that would make you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, Mione.”

“So...tell me about Narcissus?”

“I’m not a big fan of the Greek tale of Narcissus from whence the name comes. He was so enamored with his own reflection he fell in a river and drowned. That’s why Narcissi grow so readily along river banks and dip toward the water.” Narcissa grimaced. “However, in the language of flowers they can symbolize regard, renewal, and new beginnings. And **that** I do like.”

“Mmm, I like it, too. I hold you in high regard. And our wedding is a new beginning for us both.” Hermione rose up on her toes to kiss her bride-to-be.

“You could add daffodils to your bouquet. They come in paperwhite, you know.”

“Oh, Narcissa. I would love to have a bouquet filled with choices that have beautiful meanings in the language of flowers,” Hermione said, one hand wrapped around Narcissa’s waist and one tangled in the hair at the back of her neck.

“That’s the perfect plan for us, Hermione. Now, dear, we just need to teach you the language of flowers.”

Standing in front of a beautiful cascade of honeysuckle, they met for a long kiss.


	22. The Romance

“So, eh, this is unusual, eh, for me,” the young man leading Narcissa and Hermione through the Botanic Garden at Cambridge University said.

“Yes, I understood we were to be meeting Professor Lockheed,” Narcissa answered.

“I’m sorry again, missus, he called me this morning to ask me to cover because he was distributing new plants to pots and touched something and had a reaction to it and had to go to hospital.”

“It’s fine, Colin. Really,” Hermione said kindly. “Narcissa and I are just hoping to still be able to see the same flora the professor was going to show us.”

“Yes, he left me his keys. He did say, though, that when we got to greenhouse eleven, I’m supposed to let you in, phone for Kenzie, and wait outside? I don’t know who Kenzie is and that is quite an unusual request but greenhouse eleven is restricted to students so I have to follow those orders, I suppose.”

“Perfect,” Narcissa smiled, showing no teeth. “Let’s begin then, shall we?”

As the women followed the Graduate Assistant through the greenhouses, Narcissa leaned close to her fiancée to whisper, “I’m sorry I’m so cranky about this, Hermione. It simply isn’t what I had planned at all. Had I known there wouldn’t be a member of our community guiding us through the plant life we were here to specifically see, I wouldn’t have made you come.”

“One second, Colin,” Hermione said to the man ahead of them. When he turned to look at them, Hermione stepped closer to a display of roses with Narcissa, looking to Colin like all she wanted was a romantic moment with her partner - and, in some ways, that was true. She spoke quietly, “Narcissa, listen to me. Regardless of whether or not we’re able to see magical plants here today, we can still enjoy our time together. You’ve booked us a guided, private afternoon stroll through beautiful, lush gardens filled with exotic flowers. This is the most romantic date anyone’s ever going to take me on. We aren’t going to have days upon days to spend like this forever. Eventually I’m going to be busy working toward my NEWTs and then I’m going to hopefully be working at the Ministry. You’ve just found out you have all these business holdings you have your hands in and they, too, will require your attention. Let’s just enjoy all this time we have to be together. Whatever we’re doing, wherever we are, I’m glad to have my hand in yours for the afternoon.”

Her cheeks pinking, Narcissa pressed her forehead to Hermione’s, “All the spirits and Morgana, Hermione, you can’t say things like that in front of other people. Now all I want to do is kiss you in a way that is **decidedly** not appropriate for a public venue.”

Hermione smiled just a bit and pressed a nearly chaste kiss to Narcissa’s pout. As she laced her fingers back through Narcissa’s and tugged the woman’s arm to follow along behind Colin once again, she said, “Narcissa, that is the most interesting turn of phrase I’ve ever heard. Where did you come up with that?”

“I don’t know,” Narcissa laughed, allowing Hermione to drag her along, “I think one of my sisters used to say it.”

Hermione just chuckled and rolled her eyes, securing her right hand in Narcissa’s left and wrapping her own left hand around Narcissa’s elbow. The women followed Colin as he walked them through the greenhouses, taking note of flowers they particularly liked and just enjoying the romantic atmosphere and time with one another.

“Hmm, do you think...you know...never mind. I...I’m going to keep that thought to myself for now.”

“What? No! Now you have to tell me!”

Narcissa laughed just a bit before she pressed a kiss to the head of the woman next to her. “I was going to ask a question about a flower I was thinking of for my bouquet. However, I don’t know that...what I mean to say is that I don’t feel…”

“Narcissa?” Hermione asked quietly, bringing their joined hands up to her mouth to place a kiss on Narcissa’s knuckles.

“Yes,” Narcissa answered piteously.

“What’s going on? We’ve had some pretty intense conversations in the past week for hours at a time and I haven’t heard you like this before. Everything okay?”

Narcissa just smiled a little smile at the other woman and spoke up to the young man still walking ahead of them, “Colin?”

“Yes, missus?”

“This is the greenhouse with the experimental bioluminescent flowers, yes?”

“Right, wanna see?” The woman nodded at his grin. “Okay, I’m going to lock the entry, push the button to close the special blinds, and shut the lights. Just be careful, it’s black as pitch in here. When you’re ready, give me a shout and I’ll turn the lights back on.”

After Colin bounced away back to what the women realized was the only door in or out, Narcissa whispered, “follow me” and led Hermione down a nearly hidden walkway underneath an overhanging of ivy.

“Turning the lights out!” Colin shouted.

The greenhouse was immediately drenched in darkness and Hermione took an instinctive step closer to Narcissa. Before her eyes could begin to adjust, she realized the ivy near her was taking on its own glow, the veins in the leaves slowly appearing before her. Hermione’s gaze followed the trail of ivy up and she gasped as she saw what looked like lilies glowing above her.

“How is this possible without magic?”

“Science,” Narcissa said. “This is the experimental greenhouse. The University of Cambridge is one of the top universities in the world; brilliant people study, research, and teach here. This particular greenhouse is filled with pet projects of some of those researchers. There truly are bioluminescent lilies growing above us...but they haven’t been able to replicate the experiment anywhere else. If you take a cutting and attempt to relocate it, the cutting dies.”

“This is amazing,” Hermione looked around, her arms secure on Narcissa’s shoulders. “Can we walk around a bit?”

“Very carefully, it really is nearly pitch black. The only light is from the plants. Though, interestingly enough, the longer we keep the lights off the brighter it will get in here...for about twelve hours. Then it holds steady for a while. Eventually, though, the plants need more sunlight for energy.”

“Have you been in here that long? More than twelve hours? With whom?”

Narcissa smirked at the hint of jealousy she thought she heard, “I haven’t, no. Lucius would never allow me to be away from Malfoy Manor for that long. Professor Lockheed told me that once.”

Hermione hummed and wrapped her arm around Narcissa’s waist as they slowly made their way along the path. “Oh, Narcissa! Look at the honeysuckle! The way the light moves is amazing,” Hermione was captivated. “This is incredible.” Hermione reached out a hand to touch the petal of the nearest honeysuckle flower when Narcissa stopped her.

“Hermione - you mustn’t! None of these flowers should be touched. Not only could we damage their fragile ecosystem but we haven’t a clue what they could do to us. They aren’t completely natural, remember?”

“Of course, that makes sense. They’re just so incredible I wasn’t thinking. I remember…”

“What, darling?” Narcissa asked, following Hermione to a little pond further down the path. 

“Look at those lily pads, the way they sparkle,” she said distractedly. Sighing, she answered the question, “I remember once, when I was little, my parents took me on vacation somewhere near the ocean. I...I don’t remember where it was specifically anymore, I was so young, maybe four years old, but I know we were in Australia. We were sitting on the end of a pier at night after a full day of being at the beach and flying kites and playing. We walked out and watched the sunset. As we sat on that pier and watched the water, it started to glow. I was convinced it was mermaids. I vaguely recall my father trying to explain bioluminescent algae.”

“What a lovely memory,” Narcissa stepped behind Hermione, wrapping her arms around Hermione’s waist and bending her head down to place a kiss beneath Hermione’s ear.

“What were you trying to say to me earlier when you couldn’t find the right words?” Hermione whispered. “Please tell me.”

“I was going to say something about a bouquet flower for the wedding but I think I’d prefer if we could wait on that conversation. I have some thoughts about our bouquets, darling but we have some time before those decisions must be made,” Narcissa explained, settling her hands on Hermione’s hips and turning the younger woman in her arms so they could kiss properly.

“Hmm, you are a woman of mystery. I’ll just have to remember which flowers I liked from today, I suppose?”

“Or we’ll have to come back? Or tour another Botanic Garden? The National Botanic Gardens of Ireland are beautiful. Oooh, or the Jardin botanique de la Ville de Paris, I love it.”

“Oh, gosh, no. Another romantic trip to Paris with my romantic fiancée to spend hours roaming a romantic French botanic garden to choose flowers for the bouquets for our wedding...what a hardship. Woe is me,” Hermione snorted. “Kiss me, you silly woman.”

Narcissa, laughing, gave in to Hermione’s demand. “Hardship indeed,” she teased back, pinching Hermione’s side. “Colin,” she called out, a little louder, “I think we’re ready to head out to greenhouse eleven if we may.”

“Sure thing, missus. I have to turn the lights on slow, so it’s gonna take a minute if you want to keep walking ‘round.”

“Come this way,” Narcissa murmured into Hermione’s ear once more, pulling her down a barely visible path, “I think this is where the...yes.” The smile was evident in Narcissa’s voice, “Edelweiss grows back here.”

“Edelweiss? Isn’t that native to the Alps? How did they manage to have this many plants from this many regions all growing in one greenhouse. Doesn’t anyone else find that suspicious?”

“Darling, think about it. The plants in this greenhouse glow. You’re looking at glowing Edelweiss. Do you really think people are concerned about the native temperate conditions when the plants in here have been bred for bioluminescence?”

“Okay, fair point.”

“Now, can you just walk with me through this shimmering tunnel of Edelweiss and Bellflowers before the lights are fully on? Please?” Narcissa smirked once more but broke into a happy smile when Hermione’s fingers laced through hers.

“I’d be delighted.” Once they were in the middle of the tunnel of flowers, Hermione looked around and noticed the way the light gently pulsated. “Narcissa, do you think the plants in here react to our magic?”

“That’s something I’ve been studying for years, actually. Where does our magic come from? Does nature feed off of us or the other way around?”

“This is incredible,” Hermione said softly. “Look at the way the light is moving...swirling in and back out. It’s almost playing with us.” Hermione reached toward the flowers, quietly whispering, “lumos.” She dragged the word out and the flowers nearest her hand lit up brightly, sending their light outward through stems and leaves. “Nox,” she whispered, watching the opposite happen. “Finite.”

Narcissa and Hermione looked at one another with wide, amazed eyes as the flowers began swirling their lights slowly around the women again.

“Muggle magic,” Hermione said.

“Exactly,” Narcissa agreed, smiling.

They met for yet another kiss beneath the slowly swirling luminescence of the Bellflowers and Edelweiss. Hermione slid her hands over Narcissa’s shoulders and cupped the back of the taller woman’s neck, holding her in place. Nipping Narcissa’s bottom lip, Hermione took their kiss from sweet to passionate and felt Narcissa’s answering groan deep inside. Narcissa in response, grasped Hermione’s hips and lifted her to sit on the guard rail, stepping between her legs.

Hermione, now slightly higher than Narcissa, locked her ankles behind the other woman to hold her close. Their heated kisses were intensifying the floral light around them, though neither woman noticed. Feeling something on her head, Narcissa slowly tamped down the passion rising between them. She looked up only to realize some of the Bellflower petals had begun to drop onto them, Hermione’s hair was sprinkled with the purple bits of flower.

“We broke the flowers, Cissa,” Hermione said, in awe.

“I suppose we did. Or perhaps they were showering us in preparation of our upcoming nuptials,” she wiped a smudge of lipstick away from the corner of Hermione’s swollen lips. “We should go find Colin before he comes looking for us.”

“Does that mean I have to let go of you?” Hermione asked, leaning back in to press her lips to Narcissa’s once more.

“Yes, my lion, you have to get down from there,” Narcissa met Hermione’s lips but kept the kiss gentle and calm, a cooling of the ardor that had so quickly risen.

Hermione kissed her way to Narcissa’s ear to whisper, “but I like having you here, having my arms around you, holding you close. If I let you go now, we’re going to go home and I’m going to have to sleep in my cold, lonely bed and only hold you in my dreams.”

“Fight fair, darling. It’s barely been a week. And we aren’t going home just yet. Take a walk with me through the last greenhouse, it’s the magical one.” Narcissa leaned back in Hermione’s arms so she could make eye contact with the younger woman, “please.”

Hermione smiled and cupped Narcissa’s cheek, “I would love to stroll through another greenhouse with you. Any more surprises?”

Narcissa chuckled and helped Hermione down safely from the rail, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“No more bioluminescent flowers? No more Narcissus?” Hermione tickled the other woman’s side.

Narcissa jumped and grasped Hermione’s hand in her own, “Okay, the second thing you just mentioned was not entirely my fault. I told you, I thought you were just being cute at first, then I was embarrassed. But no, no more bioluminescent surprises. In fact, you’ll likely be more knowledgeable about this last greenhouse than I am. Herbology was never my favorite.”

“Neither was it mine,” Hermione confessed.

“What was?” Narcissa asked as they followed Colin out of greenhouse ten and down a cobblestone path.

“Professor McGonagall’s class, of course,” Hermione smirked.

“Of course,” Narcissa smirked back, knowing they both alluded to the crushes many students developed on their favorite teachers. “Mine was, hmm,” Narcissa didn’t want to use the professor’s name, knowing it was so odd, she hoped Hermione would understand her reference, “chemistry?”

“Ah, yes. I could see you being excellent in chemistry. Precise yet room for creativity.”

Narcissa snapped her head to the side, surprised at Hermione’s comment. That was exactly why she had always preferred Professor Slughorn’s Potions classes; one was required to follow a precise recipe but there was often room for a bit of creativity in the application of an ingredient or the use of a tool. Hermione leaned very close to her fiancée’s ear to whisper once more, “Narcissa, it may have only been barely a week but never in my life have I known someone the way I feel I know you.”

“Three months, one week, and five days.”

“But who’s counting.”

Colin interrupted what would likely have resulted in yet another kiss, “Ladies, I’ll unlock greenhouse eleven for you. When you step inside there should be a phone...I guess...for you to call, eh, Kenzie? Do you have a number?”

“I do,” Narcissa said, stepping forward. “Thanks, Colin. Will it lock behind us when we leave?”

“It will but Professor Lockheed said to tell you to remind Kenzie and she’ll make sure eleven’s all locked up. He said not to worry about it at all. So, eh, I hope you enjoyed the greenhouses today?”

“We did, thank you ever so much,” Hermione answered, reaching out to shake his hand.

Narcissa, however, pulled an envelope out from a hidden pocket of her jacket and handed it to Colin. “Thank you for the tour. Please let Professor Lockheed know we really appreciated your time. Greenhouse ten was incredible, thank you so much for sharing that with us.”

“Oh! Thanks, missus!” Colin said happily, realizing the envelope held a tip for him. “Enjoy this one!”

Narcissa and Hermione waited for him to walk away before stepping into greenhouse eleven themselves. “I’m sure I don’t need to warn you to be careful in here, Hermione. This greenhouse is definitely filled with harmful plant life. I see a Devil’s Snare right in front of us.”

“Narcissa?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re here to be together, yes?”

“Well, yes…”

“But, also, to select flowers for our wedding?”

“Right…”

“What do you think about decorating with Edelweiss, White Honeysuckle, and Bellflowers?”

Narcissa was quiet for a moment, clearly lost in thought. “And we can each choose our own bouquets also based on those colors? White and purple?”

“Mmhmm...is that okay?”

“Perfect,” Narcissa’s blue eyes, filled with tears, met Hermione’s brown. “Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“I...I’m not quite sure why but making this decision together felt like a momentous occasion to me,” Narcissa sniffled.

“I…I know what you mean,” Hermione answered, wrapping her arms around Narcissa in a very tight hug.

“Would you like to come back to Black Manor for supper? Something light, maybe?”

“I would. I don’t really need to see the magical plants in here. I’m happy to have selected the muggle plants that are meaningful to us. This was another wonderful day together, Narcissa.”

As they kissed, Narcissa Apparated them just outside the gates of Black Manor.

“Is it terrible that I don’t actually want to start working on my NEWTs or working at all? I just want to spend every day having wonderful, romantic adventures with you. Seeing the world. Experiencing new things. Enjoying you,” Hermione held on to Narcissa as they meandered through the garden before making their way inside.

“Not terrible at all. I know I shouldn’t but I want the same thing. I think it’s only natural. This...hmmm...relationship between us is so very new and heady and...exciting, that we both just want to keep experiencing it. One day, though, it won’t be new. We’ll wake up and just...say good morning and go about our day and it’ll be old hat.”

“Nope,” Hermione shook her head.

“No? You don’t think so?”

“Sorry, Narcissa. I think you’re absolutely brilliant but about this one thing, you’re dreadfully wrong. Waking up next to you, no matter how many times I get to do it, will never, ever become old hat. Not when your blue eyes are the first thing I’ll get to see,” Hermione said, as if she were stating an incontrovertible fact, a law everyone knew.

Narcissa’s jaw fell open. “Hermione,” she said, “you. You’re young, darling, you don’t know.”

“I do, Narcissa. I know this. You’re brilliant and you’re wonderful. I’ll never tire of you. Maybe I’ll get bored of greenhouse ten or someday I won’t want to take a ride across the English Channel but I’ll never stop wanting to look into your eyes.”

Those eyes spilled over with tears as Narcissa pressed her forehead to Hermione’s. She didn’t believe the younger woman, not for a second. Oh, she knew Hermione thought she meant it. She knew Hermione believed those words...but eventually time would prove differently. Narcissa would fight it off, though. She would push that time away for as long as she could. No one in her life had ever spoken to her the way Hermione did.

“Oh, my brave lion, I’ll never last three more months,” Narcissa laughed.


	23. Deep in my soul...

“Oh, my,” Hermione heard as she made her way to the kitchen Thursday morning.

“What is it today, Harry?”

“Seems like the Ministry’s officially extended the reach of the Replenishment Decree. Kikus Trecus has an article about it in the Prophet this morning, ‘Expanding on last week’s announcement, Wizengamot Speaker, Ebrehem Prewett spoke in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic Tuesday evening. The crowd was filled mostly with Ministry employees and other members of the Wizengamot, though the press had been invited. There were representatives from this paper, the Quibbler, Witch Weekly, Le Cri de La Gargouille, and even The New York Ghost and The Wizard’s Voice. Prewett’s announcement was met with unsurprising support from the traditional members of the Wizengamot. Prewett shared that the Ministry would be adding language to the Decree that would require already married couples still in the child bearing years to produce three more offspring.”

“No,” Hermione gasped. “The Weasleys?”

“Looks like,” Harry shook his head slowly.

“I can’t,” Hermione dropped into a chair, not even bothering to pour herself tea. “Ten children. Can you imagine? Harry, this is an awful thing I’m going to say but...they don’t seem like they manage their...resources well. How can they add three more children to The Burrow?”

Harry had no response. “I understand that there are people in the Wizengamot with very...traditional views about marriage and procreation but how in 1998 can anyone think this is acceptable? The best way for our population to flourish is to make people feel safe. Not just **feel** safe but be safe. Instead they’re like, ‘hey, everybody pop out three babies!’ it’s just absurd!”

“They must’ve realized there are people who disagree and this is them doubling down. They’re not going to publicly tell you that you have to get married, they’re just going to tighten the noose,” Hermione said angrily, pacing the kitchen.

“What?”

“Well, how many people know you’re not going to get married this year?”

Harry folded his arms looking away and hesitated before answering, “a fair few.”

“Right. We wanted that. We wanted the Ministry to hear that Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, did not support the Decree. Your refusal is one of the biggest parts of our rebellion. What if this,” Hermione held up the Prophet, “is their response to that?”

“Like they’re going to punish the Weasleys because I won’t marry someone other than Ginny?”

Hermione shrugged, “maybe?”

“Bollocks,” Harry slapped the table. “So, what do I do? I can’t let people get punished for me!”

Hermione smiled at him sadly and reached out for his hand. “Harry?” She waited for him to calm down and look at her. “This is pretty much what we expected to happen.”

“What? I didn’t expect this! I thought they would fold! I thought the Ministry would realize they’re wrong and just, I don’t know, say, sorry!”

“How are you really still so innocent?” Narcissa said, surprising the pair as she pushed into the kitchen from the sitting room.

“Good morning,” Hermione said, a bright smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you for breakfast!”

“I just wanted to pop by and remind you that I have an appointment this morning and another one this afternoon but I wondered if you wanted to have dinner together? Perhaps invite Harry, Andy, and Mafalda Hopkirk over in light of this morning’s announcement in the Prophet?”

“I remembered but I do appreciate you being so thoughtful,” Hermione stood and wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s waist, resting against the other woman, eyes closing of their own accord. She breathed deeply, feeling at peace with Narcissa in her arms.

“And dinner?” Narcissa said quietly, pressing a kiss to the head tucked into her neck.

“Lovely idea. Sounds perfect...Mafalda Hopkirk?”

Narcissa chuckled, “I wondered if you’d ask about that. Remember last week when we ran into her in the Ministry?” Hermione nodded. “She didn’t seem very happy about the Decree herself. I think the three of us should invite her over for a discussion. See where she stands.”

“I’m in,” Harry said quickly.

“Then, I repeat, lovely idea. Sounds perfect.”

“You’re more than welcome to spend the day working in your study at Black Manor if you’d like, darling. I know it’s not completely done but we did get a good bit of it squared away yesterday. Pep and Filly can help if you need to move any other furniture.”

“You don’t mind?” Hermione asked, sounding unsure, looking up into Narcissa’s eyes.

“Not a bit,” Narcissa smiled and pressed a kiss to Hermione’s lips. “And if I have time between my appointments I’ll pop back home. Maybe we can have lunch together.”

“That would be great, then, Narcissa. I’d love to get some reading done for Defense Against the Dark Arts and also work on the wedding planning schedule,” Hermione laughed realizing how silly those two things sounded together.

Narcissa smiled, too, before turning and pulling a chair out for Hermione to sit back at the table. “I, um,” Narcissa stopped to take a very deep breath, “I’m going to go against all of my upbringing and just invite myself right to your table. I have time to stay and join you for a cup of tea before my first appointment. Would you...I mean...is that something…”

“I’d love that,” Hermione smiled, her hands pressed to the center of her chest, as if she needed to hold her heart in place.

“Harry, another cup?”

“Alright then, Narcissa, thanks,” he smiled as she made her way to the stove. “The tea things are all in the cupboard to the right of the cooktop. Just wondering, have you heard from Draco at all? Are they enjoying the trip?”

“Not even an owl, actually,” she laughed a bit. Narcissa did everything with magic and sent Harry and Hermione’s cups floating back to the table ready to drink. She carried hers over and sat beside her fiancée, subtly sliding her chair closer to Hermione and resting her left hand on Hermione’s right thigh beneath the table.

“So, how were the gardens yesterday?” Harry asked. He hadn’t seen Hermione to ask after she had gotten home.

Hermione slumped in her chair before answering, “I don’t think I even have words to describe it, Harry.”

“Kew Gardens was beautiful, as always and the private tour of the greenhouses at the University of Cambridge was impressive,” Narcissa smirked.

“Pff,” Hermione laughed, “I wasn’t thinking any of those words.” She turned and pressed a kiss to Narcissa’s cheek. “I was thinking more along the lines of amazing, perfect, romantic, beautiful, incredible.”

Narcissa tried to hide her pink cheeks behind her tea cup...it didn’t work.

“Well done, Narcissa,” Harry winked. “You could write a book on romantic dates. You two have been doing this for a week and I’ve never heard someone gush so much about how many perfect days they’ve had.”

“Well, it’s not really, I mean to say...it’s easy. I want to do things with Hermione that make her smile and make us happy together. We also had the purpose of looking specifically for flowers yesterday but I knew she would particularly enjoy the gardens so...it was easy to choose. If I were planning a day with someone other than Hermione I wouldn’t do the same things I do with her.”

“So, if Hermione were interested in, say, Quidditch, what would you do with her?” Harry smiled.

“First of all, let’s all just be grateful that she’s not because I’m not a big fan of sport watching myself. However, were Hermione to suddenly confess that she simply adores Quidditch and completely fancies the Holyhead Harpies, I’d, I don’t know, certainly make sure I got tickets to a match. Good tickets where we could sit in seats with an excellent view. But I’d also do something totally unexpected like find the place where Quidditch was first played in Britain and go there that morning or afternoon before the match. I’d, uh, make reservations for after the match at whatever local pub or restaurant the team members are likely to frequent. I’d get her a scarf in their team colors. I’d know the names of all the players and the coaches before we went if that’s something Hermione was interested in.”

“But she’s not,” Harry said, eyes narrowed.

“No, she is not,” Narcissa stated.

“So, you thought of all that just now. On the spot?”

“When you’ve spent time thinking of other ways to, hmm, show someone you...care for them, then these ideas come more easily,” Narcissa said evenly.

“Hermione’s interested in-”

“I know what Hermione’s interested in, Mister Potter, thank you,” Narcissa, grinning, cut Harry off. “We’re not going to discuss it because I have spent a great deal of time thinking about future days with Hermione and I fear that I am not a good enough secret keeper to discuss this in front of her without giving things away.”

“So, there are things to give away,” Hermione asked with great interest, peering up at Narcissa with a grin on her face.

Narcissa kissed her, smiling into her lips. “Nope, nothing.” Narcissa sat up, removing her hand from Hermione’s thigh and wrapping her arm around Hermione’s shoulders instead, “Harry, tell me, how’s Ginny doing at Hogwarts?”

Harry just laughed.

The trio continued to tease each other and leaf through the Daily Prophet, commenting on the articles they found for another half hour before Narcissa had to leave.

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet you for lunch, otherwise you can always ask Pepper or Filly to help you find something at the Manor,” Narcissa said, squeezing Hermione’s hand as they stood just inside the front door.

Hermione lifted up on her toes a bit to kiss Narcissa once more before agreeing about lunch. “If you can’t make lunch, I’ll see you this afternoon before dinner?”

“Absolutely,” Narcissa traced her fingertips along Hermione’s jaw. One more kiss before she disillusioned herself and left.

Harry stepped out of the kitchen after he heard the door shut and found Hermione leaning back against it, a smile on her face, her eyes closed. “You’ve got it bad, Granger.”

“Yep,” she grinned at him, bounding up the stairs, two at a time. “I’m going to gather a few books and things and go to the Manor to study up! See you for supper, Harry!”

He just laughed again and followed her up the stairs to his own room to do his own reading. The Ministry may have relaxed the standards for Aurors but Harry had no intentions of starting the job unprepared. He was determined to read every book they recommended before his first day. How could he be responsible for stopping witches and wizards who broke the laws if he didn’t _know_ the laws? Just as he sat at the desk in his room, he heard Hermione traipsing back downstairs on her way to Black Manor for the day. _She should just move in there, already. She’s over there every day as it is!_

Narcissa quietly closed the door behind her as she entered Tiffany’s, smiling at Katalina.

“Welcome, Miss Black. Come on back to the consultation area, I have a few design ideas to discuss with you,” Katalina returned the happy expression, gesturing toward the rear of the shop.

Nervously, Narcissa nodded and resumed the seat she had taken only days earlier.

“How have you been, Miss Black?”

“Well, thank you, Katalina, and yourself?” Narcissa was grateful to be able to fall back on her dutifully ingrained manners.

“Quite well, myself. I’m very excited to show you a few of these design ideas. Before we look through them, though, I just want to review some of the information I based these on,” Katalina paused, looking at Narcissa for confirmation before she continued.

“Understandable, proceed.”

Katalina set a thick, leather portfolio on the table in front of herself before speaking. “I understood from our conversation that Hermione, your fiancée, is going to be using her time this year to finish up some studies at Hogwarts? Studies she wasn’t able to complete last year as she was - quite literally - saving us all from you-know-who, right?” Narcissa nodded. “And, I also understood that, after she completes that, she will probably be looking into a career at the Ministry? In government?”

“I believe so,” Narcissa nodded again, smiling a little and saying, “in her heart, she truly has a deep desire to see justice done and equality happen for all creatures. I think that will lead her to Governance and Politics.”

“Thank you. Now let me tell you a little bit about the ring choices I’ve worked up for you today. None of them are currently made, none of them are set the way I’ve designed them, they are all able to be altered and adjusted to suit your tastes and choices. I have six ideas here. I’m going to show you the first three that I actually, in light of the information you just confirmed for me, do not necessarily recommend.” Katalina opened the leather portfolio she had and laid out three images side by side.

“Hmm,” Narcissa intoned. “Can you explain why you wouldn’t recommend them? They’re all beautiful engagement rings.”

“Thank you,” Katalina flushed. “They are all definitely eye-catching. These are the three larger rings I designed for you. They are intended to catch the eye. However, a woman with a career in government and politics does not necessarily want to wear a ring that’s going to draw that much attention. Especially when you consider how big a statement the wedding ring next to it will have to make.”

“Of course,” Narcissa nodded, resting her elbows on the table and leaning forward. “That makes so much sense. Also, Mione isn’t really a...big...jewelry wearer. You know?”

“Understood. Let me show you two others. They may be more to her style and yours,” Katalina grinned. She pulled two more images out of the portfolio and slid them toward Narcissa.

Narcissa tapped one, her brows drawn. “It seems off-balance?”

“Ah, that particular Cathedral cut is intended to be paired with…” Katalina pulled out her wand and tapped the paper, “ _revelio_ this Wedding Band in the pavé style. The engagement ring by itself can seem off-centered, but it locks into the band once they’re paired. I specifically included rings such as these because you will have such a short engagement period. Sometimes people are engaged for years before marrying and an unbalanced ring can be odd but for someone who would only wear it alone for a few months, I would consider it.”

“That makes sense, thank you for that consideration. Unfortunately, I simply do not prefer that ring itself. I do like this other one, though. What does this say? The Baguette?”

“Yes! I like the Baguette style setting as well! I’m rather glad you like it because I have one more ring to show you and it’s similar to the Baguette style but a vintage setting.” Katalina removed one last image from her portfolio and placed it carefully on the table. “It’s a Filigree and Vintage setting in a traditional gold band using only perfect diamonds, of course. The metal can be changed to platinum, silver, rose gold, whichever you prefer and the stone certainly doesn’t have to be a diamond if you’d rather something else there, as well.”

“Diamonds. Definitely diamonds. And gold, I think. Can it be engraved?”

“It can. What would you like it to say?”

“I’ll get back to you on that. How quickly would you be able to get this done?”

“How quickly do you need it?”

Narcissa blushed and looked out the front window, “Well, Hermione’s birthday is next Saturday, the nineteenth, so I was hoping by then?”

Katalina took a deep breath. That was a _quick_ turnaround. “It would depend on the spellwork, Miss Black.”

“Um, I don’t, um. I don’t want any spellwork?” Narcissa said with great uncertainty in her voice.

“I don’t understand. We’re a magical jeweler. Our base price comes with two standard spells and, certainly, you were poised to go for the Elite?”

Narcissa clasped her hands together nervously, “I apologize for misleading you, Katalina. I did not intend to do so. Let me be completely honest. I came here to Tiffany’s because I think it’s important for us to support local businesses. I think there’s a chance if Hermione and I shop here, it might encourage more people to shop here and with the big boom in the wedding business coming up, I thought it would be good for Tiffany’s. I did not come here because I want my future wife to have a ring that magically manipulates her emotions or turns her into a mindless automaton.”

“Okay, woah. None of our Charmers would do that. I don’t know what you’ve heard but we don’t cast anything like that here.”

“My apologies but I have seen it with my own eyes, Katalina,” Narcissa spoke much more quietly, leaning toward the other woman, “I spent my entire life until just a few months ago immersed in pureblood society. I’ve witnessed many women subdued into mere shadows of themselves by magically imbued trinkets from their husbands, their in-laws, even their own parents. I won’t do that Hermione.”

“Narcissa, that’s awful,” Katalina said, gently placing her hand atop Narcissa’s, “I swear, none of those ‘trinkets’ were purchased from me. And I would be quite surprised if they were purchased here at Tiffany’s. I honestly believe our Master Charmers have far more integrity than that.”

“Thank you for that reassurance. I suppose I don’t understand the purpose of the spellwork you’re offering then,” Narcissa looked away.

“One of the spells we offer is a simple alarm. So, if your fiancée were to find herself in danger, your finger would itch or burn. Another is a forget-me-not, we call it? She can send you a sort of wave of love if she thinks of you while twisting the ring around her finger.”

“Oh, that’s not at all what I thought you meant earlier. I’m so sorry,” Narcissa offered. “I thought you meant compliance spells or calming spells, both of which I’ve seen used on women.”

“Yes, I do believe there are jewelry stores that still utilize those barbaric customs. Shameful, though, if you ask me,” Katalina said in confidence as she leaned closer to Narcissa. “If I ever found out someone used a spell like that on my jewelry I’d leave him or her faster than I could say goodbye.”

Narcissa grinned, nodding at the other woman in agreement. “As you well should. Everyone deserves autonomy. You know, I think I’m going to add that to my list,” she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

“List?”

“Oh,” Narcissa sighed and rolled her eyes at herself, “it’s something Hermione and I say. She just has so many brilliant ideas about the world around her and so many avenues of justice she wants to explore. I told her she should keep a list and choose which battles to fight when. I think bewitching jewelry and giving to unknowing and unsuspecting women is going to go on _my_ list of wrongs to right in the world.”

“You want to change the world, too?” Katalina grinned.

“Hermione makes me want to believe I can,” Narcissa blushed once more. Clearing her throat, Narcissa tapped the image in front of her once more, “I do believe this ring would look perfect on my Hermione. Have you seen her?”

“I have. Your Announcement in the Prophet was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa smiled. “Do you think it’s too traditional to go with gold?”

“That’s an interesting question. I do think the classic choice for an engagement ring is yellow gold and diamonds. Is there a reason you don’t want to give Hermione a classically designed ring? They have withstood the test of time,” Katalina replied evenly.

Narcissa pressed her lips together in a slight frown, glancing away. “I think...I’m trying to avoid making choices that are traditional because I don’t want Hermione to think I’m trying to repeat my first marriage. I’m not. This is wholly different.”

“And was your engagement ring yellow gold with a diamond?”

“Slytherin engagement rings tend to be silver with oversized emeralds or black opals haloed with diamonds. Mine was an emerald. Lots of diamonds.” Narcissa rolled her eyes.

“So, if there’s nothing in your past preventing you, don’t allow yourself to get caught up in being different. Sometimes, it’s okay to stick with tradition. Especially if you think this ring would look good on your fiancée because, in the end, you two are the ones who matter.”

“You’re right, of course. Thank you, Katalina. I...I’m going to give this ring to Hermione,” Narcissa whispered, tracing the outline with her index finger. “I’d like to request the simple alarm spell you mentioned earlier as well but, I just need to know, if Hermione doesn’t like it. If she doesn’t want the alarm, can you remove it?”

“Absolutely. Spellwork can be removed if you bring the ring right back here.”

“And...and if she likes her ring can I bring her back here to look at...at Wedding Bands together?”

“I hope you will,” Katalina smiled gently. “I’ll owl you next week when the ring is ready. This is the base price.” Katalina pointed to a line of text on the picture. “Engraving will cost a bit extra. There’s one other special spell I didn’t tell you about.”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes.

“We can make the ring in a size near what we think Hermione’s would be based on what you think and put a spell on it that it would automatically resize to her hand specifically when you propose and she accepts.” Katalina paused, “would you be inter-”

“Yes. That’s perfect. Thank you,” Narcissa smiled, slumping her shoulders slightly. “I was very worried about the sizing.”

“And now it’s taken care of. We won’t bill you until you pick up the ring next week. However, this is a far quicker turnaround than usual. There may be a charge for that?”

“Katalina, I have absolutely no concern for the cost of this ring. Whatever you charge me, I am paying. I doubt I have ever said that to anyone before and I doubt I’ll ever say it again but, here? Now? I mean it. I just want it to be...perfect.”

“And as soon as you let me know the engraving you want, it will be,” Katalina reached out and took one of Narcissa’s hands between her own. “Narcissa, the attention you put into this engagement ring is not often seen. Hermione is obviously deeply cared for by you. Take some time and think about the engraving. She won’t see it often, but she’ll always know it’s there.”

Narcissa smiled, tight lipped, keeping her tears in check thinking about giving a ring to Hermione. She nodded at the jeweler and turned to make her way to the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned back. 

“I know what it’s going to say,” Narcissa smiled beatifically.

Katalina tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, waiting.

“Deep in my soul, always.”


	24. So much to do...

Narcissa slowly opened the door to Black Manor jumping slightly when Pepper popped into sight. “Mistress Black,” the little elf squeaked, “Hermione Granger is in the new study. Mistress Black should maybe hurry?”

“What is it, Pepper? Is Hermione okay?” Narcissa said moving briskly toward Hermione.

“Hermione Granger was looking at wedding papers and calendars and said six months? We have three months! Good grief! And then Hermione Granger laid down with a book on her face,” Pepper tugged her little ears. “Hermione Granger didn’t drink tea when Pepper brought it. Or eat a biscuit...a biscuit!”

Narcissa, biting her lip to contain a sympathetic smile, knelt down before the distressed little creature, taking her tiny hand, “Pepper, you’re such a good elf. You take very good care of us. Hermione is just fine, I promise. I’ll go there and check on her right away. Could you perhaps get lunch started for us? Something light I think as we’re having people over for dinner so that ought to be a heartier meal.”

“Yes, Mistress!” Pepper popped away.

Narcissa rose, brushing off her knees and made her way to Hermione’s study to see what else they would be rushing to get done before the wedding.

“Darling?” She called out softly as she tapped on the door, peeking into the room. Just as Pepper had said, Hermione lay draped across the chaise, a book over her face.

“Cissa, is that you?” Hermione didn’t move her body...or the book.

Smiling indulgently, Narcissa simply crossed the room and took the book off of Hermione’s face replacing the paper with her lips as she sat on the edge of the chaise lounge next to Hermione. “I should hope so,” she murmured against Hermione’s mouth.

“Mmm, better than books,” Hermione answered, wrapping her arms around Narcissa’s shoulders, pulling her fiancée closer. She deepened the kiss, her ardor rising quickly having spent the previous hours thinking about their wedding...and their honeymoon.

Narcissa’s desire quickly matched Hermione’s own and found the taller woman’s free hand sliding from Hermione’s cheek to her neck to trace her collar bone before sliding down her side to cup her hip. Hermione’s hands could not remain still on Narcissa’s back and roamed restlessly up and down the woman’s long spine before they, too, found purchase on her hips. Hermione used them to move Narcissa from sitting next to her prone form to laying atop her, one of Narcissa’s legs between her own.

“Hermione,” Narcissa ground out, fighting the instinct of her hips to press against the woman beneath her, “what are you doing to me?”

“Kiss me, Narcissa,” Hermione panted back, seeking out the other woman’s lips once more.

Narcissa gave in for a moment - how could she not - but resisted the rhythm of Hermione’s hands against her bottom. However much her body wanted this, and it did, Narcissa was not going to give in. She slowed their kisses, pulled back enough to dislodge Hermione’s persistent hands from their very happy purchase. Smiling softly Narcissa looked into brown eyes with widely dilated pupils, “Darling, what were you thinking about before I came home, hmm?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Hermione whispered, not answering the question.

Narcissa doubted she had even heard it. “Hermione, dear,” Narcissa tapped her nose, standing so she could readjust and sit herself back beside Hermione’s prone body, “what made you hide beneath your book? Pepper said you were stressed about the timeline for something? What were you working on?”

Hermione’s eyes focused on Naricssa’s, “I was looking into various Wizarding Travel Agencies for Honeymoon planning.” Hermione’s blush and sudden interest in the stitching detail on the edge of the furniture was a dead giveaway of her embarrassment.

“Ah,” Narcissa said knowingly, “well, that certainly explains that.”

“And what does that mean?” Hermione blurted out defensively, sitting up.

“You were thinking about our Honeymoon and I was thinking about marrying you both right before I came home. It makes perfect sense that we would both be so quick to...hmm...how shall I say it delicately,” Narcissa teased a little, “fall into one another so intensely?”

“Oh,” Hermione blinked. “Yes, that does certainly explain it. Although, Narcissa, most times I only have to look at you and I’m ready to fall into you.”

Narcissa pressed her forehead to Hermione’s shoulder, smiling, “three months, my darling.”

“Yes, I know. And one week and four days. But who’s counting.”

“Oh, we are. We are definitely counting.” Narcissa placed a kiss where her forehead had been pressing before she stood and offered a hand to Hermione. “Now, show me what upset you before we go have some lunch.”

“Ugh,” Hermione grunted, “All of the resources on hand say that wedding dresses and honeymoons both take at least six months but we only have three!”

Narcissa, Hermione’s hand carefully ensconced in her own, led her fiancée to the kitchen for lunch, “Well, let’s start with the Honeymoon. Are there places you’re desperate to visit? Is there somewhere you have in mind for our holiday?”

Smiling, Hermione just shook her head.

“Are you sure? There’s no where in the world you’d like to visit?”

“There are plenty of places I’d like to visit,” Hermione pulled out a chair for Narcissa and then sat next to her, “but none of them seem very appropriate for a romantic trip with you.”

Narcissa leaned over and kissed the other woman, “Hermione, it isn’t the location that has to be romantic. It’s being there together that will make it so.”

Hermione just tilted her head, a besotted little grin upon her face.

“You know, I was actually thinking that for our Honeymoon we could go to La Maison de Black for a few weeks. Christmas in Paris would be beautiful and we could invite people over for a New Year’s Ball if you wanted?”

“And from Paris we could take trips around to different places?”

“Like? What are some places in Europe you’d like to visit, Hermione?” Narcissa questioned again before thanking Pepper for the toasted sandwiches and soup she had placed on the table.

“Yes, thank you, Pep.” Hermione smiled at the happy elf. “I don’t know, maybe Luxembourg? I’ve heard they have a rich magical community there?”

“They do,” Narcissa frowned, “but I’m not sure it’s the kind we’d like to visit. I think it might be more similar to the kind we’ve just defeated, in fact.”

“No,” Hermione was aghast. “I’ve seen so many pictures of Luxembourg in books, it looks incredible. Their Diagon Alley, ugh, what’s it called, um…Rue de La Magie? It’s impressive. One of the largest central, magical hubs in all of Western Europe.”

“Yes, which is probably what led to them growing so fond of their own power. Last I heard, which was, admittedly, not all that recently, they were harboring a great many Death Eaters in spectacular fashion. They were treated like visiting dignitaries, not fugitives.”

Hermione finished chewing the food in her mouth before replying with a simple, “I’ll add it to the list...and do a little more research about Luxembourg before we make any serious plans to travel. I have to assume the two women most recognizable for the fall of the Dark Lord wouldn’t be welcome in a society of pureblood supremacists.”

“No, and I’ve actually heard things much darker about society in that country. It’s something it would take multiple governments united to put an end to.”

“Narcissa,” Hermione looked her fiancée right in the eyes, “what is it? What do they do?”

“You know how Lucius treated poor, sweet Dobby?”

Hermione nodded gravely, eyes wide and watery.

“Rumor has it that ‘elite’ society there? They have their own court system for muggles who commit offenses against magical society,” Narcissa delicately wiped her mouth with a napkin. Hermione noticed her hands shaking and reached out to grasp them. 

“You don’t have to continue if it’s too upsetting, Narcissa, it’s okay. I’m sure I could look it up somewhere,” Hermione pressed her lips to the back of one of Narcissa’s hands.

“I doubt it’s recorded anywhere. La cour du diamant et de la terre is what they call it, I think? The court of diamond and dirt. And the standard punishment for any muggle brought in is indentured servitude.”

“Indentured...servitude...they have muggle slaves. Oh, my...Narcissa. How has the world allowed this to go on?”

“It’s not as though they do it in public. The court is held in secret. Muggles are kept shackled in manors and chateaus. And the government of non-magical Luxembourg is none the wiser. Obliviated mostly, as I understand, or lied to. I know some positions in the Parliament have been held by wizards in the past but I don’t know if any are now.”

“And no one in the monarchy has ever been magical?”

“If they have they haven’t given away the secrets of Rue de la Magie,” Narcissa shuddered.

The pair ate in peace for a few moments. Narcissa, glancing sideways at Hermione, took a quiet breath and broke the silence, “we could definitely go to Switzerland if you want to travel, though. We could even do a weekend there in January before we come back to London? It’s beautiful and there are quite a few completely magical villages that are supposed to be wonderfully diverse and welcoming.”

“Yes, absolutely yes!”

“Consider it done. I’ll owl over to one of the Chateau’s this afternoon and see what they have available. Well, actually, let’s talk first,” Narcissa shook her head laughing at herself. “The village I was thinking of is a purely magical village near Lake Lucerne but would you rather go to the south? To the Alps?”

“Which is lovelier?”

Narcissa turned more fully toward Hermione and cupped the younger woman’s cheek in her hand, “I don’t know, darling. This will be a new experience for us both. I will admit that there’s a Chateau owned by a Roma family called The Mountain’s Gem where I’ve always wanted to stay. That is to say, it’s called that but in their native language which I don’t know, I think they speak Romani. It’s right on Lake Lucerne in Bergjuwel, which also means Mountain Gem but in German.” Narcissa laughed, a light, twinkling sound. “But if you want to see the Alps, we can always go back to Bergjuwel another time.”

“No, I want to go to the Chateau. It sounds perfect for our Honeymoon,” Hermione kissed Narcissa, to seal the agreement. “Paris, Lake Lucerne, maybe a little French Riviera, I wouldn’t say no to you in a bikini on a beach... Who would’ve thought our lives would look this happy just four months after the war ended?”

Narcissa’s smile lit up the room. “You are so very right about our happiness, my darling. So very right about that.” Narcissa kissed Hermione again, clearly addicted to the younger woman’s lips. “However, you are very wrong if you think I’m lounging on a beach in France in January. It’s far too cold! We can go back to the Riviera in June you silly woman, when the weather is hot and the beach is perfect,” laughing Narcissa picked her sandwich up once again.

Hermione, pleased with herself to have lightened Narcissa’s mood, went back to her own lunch, content and smiling.

“That was delicious, Pepper, thank you so much,” Hermione said sweetly, trying to make up for having let her tea go cold earlier.

Grinning widely, the house elf curtsied, “Filly is getting the dinner things for tonight, Mistress Black. The menu is all planned out and Pepper will clean the table and set the table and...and...um...oh! And Pepper will freshen up the sitting room for the guests who are Harry Potter and Andy-dromeda and Miss Hopkirk. Madame Hopkirk? Mistress Hopkirk?”

“Miss Hopkirk will do just fine, Pepper,” Narcissa said, seeing the look on Hermione’s face.

The women made their way silently into Hermione’s study, closing the door behind them before Narcissa finally made eye contact with Hermione, knowing the younger woman was about to absolutely fall apart at just…

“How adorable can one house elf possibly be?” Hermione whispered. “Andy-dromeda? I swear she did not call Andy that last week.”

“Of course not,” Narcissa murmured into Hermione’s ear, not wanting Pepper to overhear them, “she had never heard anyone call her Andy before you came over.”

“What was she calling Andy before?” Hermione wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s shoulders, taking advantage of their position to hold her fiancée as closely as she could.

“She always called her ‘missus’ without fail. Then, after last Tuesday, suddenly it became ‘Andy-dromeda’ this and ‘Andy-dromeda’ that. And you and Harry are always both referred to by your full names. And I am never anything other than Mistress Black,” Narcissa pouted.

“Aww, do you feel left out because your big sister has a nickname and you don’t?” Hermione teased.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at the face so near her own before saying quietly, “I’d be careful teasing the woman who has her hands so near your ticklish hips, darling.”

“Pff, idle threats. I’m not ticklish,” Hermione pressed up on her toes and kissed Narcissa who promptly dug her fingers into Hermione’s decidedly ticklish sides. An ungraceful cackle exploded out of the younger woman who scrambled to twist away from the long arms wrapped around her. “No! No, you win! I’m ticklish! I lied! I lied!” Giggling uncontrollably, Hermione begged, “I’m sorry, please!”

Narcissa stopped as quickly as she had begun. Though tickling could be fun and silly, it was never fun when it went on too long and she wanted to make sure Hermione was still genuinely smiling and laughing when she stopped. “Okay, okay, I’m done, darling, I’m done. Are you alright?” Narcissa asked, hands in front of her not touching the other woman.

“Of course, I’m alright, you goof,” Hermione smiled, molding herself around Narcissa once again, “now hug me for real before we look at the schedule. I know you have another appointment soon and I’d really like to set up my own appointment with you before you go.”

Before answering or moving toward Hermione’s table of wedding lists, suggestions, supplies, and calendars, Narcissa held her fiancée in her arms and breathed in the calm, happy feeling of peace she had come to associate with the other woman. “My Hermione, I would cancel anything else I had planned if you wanted to spend time with me you know. It even surprises me a little to say that, but it’s completely true.”

Hermione’s heart did that funny trick where it skips a beat and pounds all at the same time, “Cissa,” she breathed. “You needn’t cancel anything today, my dear. Come look at the big calendar.”

Standing properly before Hermione’s “Wedding Central” Narcissa understood the controlled chaos. From any other perspective it looked like haphazard piles and random stacks of parchment but from the center of the table she could understand the method. “Okay, Mione, I see. The most pressing issues are here, in the middle, near the calendar?”

“Yes, and you can see right here that our dresses or gowns or robes needed to be started three months ago! Whatever are we going to do?”

“I can tell you right off what we’re not going to do. We’re _not_ going to panic. The reason this says six months I’m sure is because many brides are told they need to ‘shape up’ or change their body before the big day. Neither of us are telling each other that, are we?”

“No. Don’t change a thing about you! You’re perfect,” Hermione gushed.

Narcissa smiled, rewarding Hermione’s sweet complement with a quick kiss, “I know I’m certainly not telling you to change your body either, darling. So once we choose our wedding attire, there should be no need for any type of refitting or massive alterations because of that. The other reason they allot so much time is because some brides-to-be spend ages upon ages searching store after store for exactly the gown of which they’ve always dreamed. We also don’t have that problem. If there’s something you really want that you don’t see, you can always magic it on! Or ask the owner or seamstress in the magical robe shop to magic it on and it’s immediate. It doesn’t take weeks of hand stitching like it does in the muggle world.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well, not entirely sure, I guess,” Narcissa hedged, “I mean, is there a particular wedding ensemble you’ve had in mind your entire life that you simply must wear? Is it covered in bead work or hand stitching or embroidered lace?”

“Goodness no. I’m more of a sleek and simple kind of clothing wearer.”

“Then, I’m relatively positive that we have more than enough time to find suitable, beautiful garments for our wedding. When would you like to go look?”

“Next Friday? My schedule is completely free and I had been hoping to spend the day with you,” Hermione smiled.

“It’s a date,” Narcissa sealed it with a kiss. “And with that plan in place, I’m off to my appointment. Are you okay, now, darling? All better?’

“Absolutely, I’m wonderful. I’m going to do some reading for my NEWTs for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll see you before dinner?”

Narcissa grinned from ear to ear, completely enjoying the simple domesticity of the moment, “yes. I’ll see you before dinner. If you finish your reading, feel free to have a soak in the tub. All the bubbles, salts, and oils are on the shelf in the bathroom.”

They kissed once more and Narcissa was off.

Apparating to the park she remembered from earlier days, Narcissa unfolded the paper tucked in her pocket and read the address to herself. She watched as number twelve Grimmauld Place appeared before her eyes.

It took a moment to fortify herself with a deep breath and a reminder of her purpose before Narcissa could convince her feet to carry her to the front door and her hand to knock.

The door swung open only moments later revealing the aged house elf, Kreacher, a smile on his craggy face. “Hello, Mistress Black,” he said happily, bowing low before her.

“Good afternoon, Kreacher,” Narcissa answered quietly, entering the dark hallway.

“Come, come, Master Potter is back this way,” Kreacher scampered by and waved at Narcissa to follow him through the corridors.

She bumped into an awkwardly placed umbrella stand causing a small racket and awakening a very cranky portrait who promptly began hurling insults.

“Aunt Walburga?”

Silence.

Harry and Kreacher stared out of the kitchen doorway, eyes wide, jaws dropped.

“Narcissa?”

“Yes, it’s me, Auntie. I’m sorry I disturbed you. There’s an umbrella stand in your hallway that caught me off guard,” Narcissa chuckled.

“Narcissa, there are strangers in my house,” the portrait of her late aunt said quietly.

“I know, Auntie, and I’m terribly sorry that’s distressing you. Would it help if I introduced you? Would you prefer your portrait be relocated to a quieter room?”

Harry looked irritated when Narcissa glanced at him, his arms crossed and a scowl on his usually friendly face. She could guess that her late aunt-by-marriage, Walburga Black, had thrown some terrible insults his way.

“You know, Auntie,” Narcissa added quietly, like she was telling Walburga a secret, “you do have some blood relatives alive still. They even live in the Manor you grew up in!”

“But this was my house, Narcissa! I lived here my whole marriage to Orion. I raised my boys here. The Black Family Tree is here.”

“It is, Auntie, you’re right. I could probably get that out of here, though. Do you know what happened? Do you know who owns the Grimmauld Place now?”

“No! I just know it was awfully loud for a while and now it’s mostly quiet.”

“Aunt Walburga, you’ve always liked to know things straight out, so I’m going to tell you bluntly, Sirius didn’t survive the most recent war.”

“He was dead to me long ago, anyway,” Walburga responded, shrugging carelessly.

“He left number twelve Grimmauld Place to his godson. The only child of James and Lily Potter, Harry, a remarkable, honest, kind, talented young wizard who is going to move in here and make this his home with his future wife and family.”

“A pure-blood?”

“His future wife is a pureblood descendant of the Black and Prewett lines but he is not. He is a half-blood, though it is said he is descended from one of the Peverell brothers.”

“And the Crabbes? My family?”

“Vincenzius Crabbe, your nephew, still lives in the Manor.”

“You will take me there. Now.”

“Auntie, I will take you there soon but I have plans for the afternoon. I apologize but you’ll have to wait.”

The portrait began yelling again, calling Narcissa every vile name in the book.

“The more you shout at me, Auntie, the longer the wait will be. I’ll stick you in the attic at Black Manor and leave you there forever if I hear that language again. You may thank me and I’ll close the curtain. Then I’ll take you off the wall when I’m good and ready to move your beautiful portrait. Understood?” Narcissa asked with her wand tip pointing directly at the center of Walburga’s painted face.

Walburga nodded, hands held up, surrendering to Narcissa. “Yes, niece. I understand. I’ll wait quietly.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back to move you in a little while.”

Narcissa pulled the curtain gently closed and heard the portrait sigh and she settled back into her painting.

“I can’t believe she listened to you,” Harry said by way of greeting Narcissa. “I’ve been trying to get through to her for years and she just screams at me.”

“She recognized me, Harry. It freaked her out having all these strangers and enemies in her house and to have no control or warning about when she would and wouldn’t see them.”

“Are you really going to take her to Crabbe’s house? I thought he was the guy who just threatened you.”

“I’m going to take her home with me and put her in my attic where Pepper and Filly can keep an eye on her and my trustworthy portraits can continue to keep a listen out for trouble with the others. That’s where I’ve stored all the tricky ancestors.”

“I’ve said it before and you just keep proving me right; brilliant,” Harry grinned at Narcissa who blushed in response.

“No,” she shook her head and waved him off.

“Now,” he said, sitting at the table and pouring tea. “On to why we’re meeting in secret at Grimmauld Place?”

“Hermione’s birthday, of course,” Narcissa smiled. “It’s next Saturday and I’d like to have a dinner party for her but I need your help inviting people. I’d like it to be special with the most important people there. I know we probably can’t get Ginny there but if there’s any chance she can make it, that would be lovely.”

“Actually, next weekend is a Hogsmead weekend at Hogwarts,” Harry laughed. “What if we have it at the Three Broomsticks? Rent the courtyard for a private dinner party? Kind of like Draco did with his ceremony, we could ward it.”

“That’s brilliant. Then Ginny could probably make it and Minerva and Hagrid.”

“Yep!”

Narcissa grabbed Harry’s hand, her eyes filling with tears, “I can’t explain how wonderful it is to have your support, Harry. Thank you for helping. I’m going to go book the Three Broomsticks. If that’s not available, I’m still going to do something in Hogsmeade so Ginny can be there. Can you help me make a small list of other people? It should be about a dozen I think. You, Ginny, Draco, Dean, Minerva, Hagrid, Neville, Luna, who else?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “You go take care of the Three Broomsticks. See you tonight!”

Narcissa was off, a happy bounce in her step. She was excited to plan a surprise for Hermione and what better day to surprise her than her birthday?


	25. To the rescue...yet again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my dears, I apologize for the delay. Please enjoy!

“Narcissa! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Rosmerta said cheerfully, making her way around the bar to hug the other woman.

Narcissa, surprised by the gesture, smiled politely and returned the affection.

“Rita Skeeter is drunk in the back ranting about you and your darling fiancée, just so you know,” Rosmerta whispered in Narcissa’s ear.

“Ugh, I’ll only stay a bit, then. I don’t need her targeting my Hermione with another nasty article,” Narcissa whispered back. “Lovely to see you as well, my friend,” Narcissa answered jovially and loudly enough for a few others to hear.

“I do hope you’re here to book your wedding,” the barmaid said hopefully as she headed around to pour Narcissa a glass of her favorite fairy made wine.

Narcissa grimaced, “I’m sorry, Rosemerta. Please don’t take it personally. Hermione and I have already booked Achnagairn Castle in Scotland for the night before and the night of our wedding for ourselves and our wedding party. We also rented the whole castle for the night of the wedding so any guests who wish to stay can do so.”

“Oh, that’s lovely! Achnagairn! I’ve never been there!”

“Well, you’ll get your chance,” Narcissa smiled and raised her glass toward Rosmerta, “the twenty-first of December.”

“So you are having a Solstice Wedding, I thought I read that somewhere,” Rosmerta smirked again.

“Yes. It’s true. We chose that day quite specifically,” Narcissa blushed. “We both love Winter Solstice.”

“Well, if you’re not here to book your wedding, you prat, how else can- ”

Rosmerta’s sentence was interrupted by the shattering of a glass on the floor next to Narcissa who ended up covered in butterbeer.

“What on earth?” Rosmerta looked toward the back to see a red-faced Rita Skeeter staring murderously at Narcissa. “Rita! Do you want a permanent ban from the Three Broomsticks? What are you doing?”

“She cost me my job! She cost me my livelihood! That wretched whore of a death eater is ruining my life!” Rita charged at Narcissa and was - surprisingly - able to get her hands around Narcissa’s throat before she was stopped.

Narcissa, using a practiced motion of her wrist, unsheathed her wand from it’s holster on her forearm and cast a silent shield charm on herself. That resulted in Rita, face dripping with sweat and spit, to shuffle back a few steps.

With a little more room to cast, Narcissa raised a pointed eyebrow and assumed the stance of a dueler. “Miss Skeeter, I don’t know why you’re attacking me in the middle of this establishment but I will defend myself. I have no desire to duel you but if that is what you seek to put an end to this ridiculousness, I will best you and never think of you again.”

“Ha! You think so? I’m in the middle of writing a very interesting biography about your precious fiancée. You’ll think of me every day after the truth comes out about not-so-innocent little Miss Granger.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Narcissa sighed, sounding bored, “this same old thing again? How many times must we explain this to you, Rita? Hermione, like the rest of wizarding Britain, was fighting a war. And she was doing it with only six years experience in this world and with almost zero help from adults who had gone through it before. Is she perfect? Okay, well, I think so,” Narcissa rolled her eyes and gave a little smirk to the two witches who were watching the exchange from a table near the window. “I admit, however, that Hermione likely made mistakes during her nine months on the run from a maniacal blood supremecist who wanted to murder her and all the people she loves most in the world. I hope someday you can admit that she did a damned fine job saving the world. I’m proud of her every day. Who she is. What she’s done. The dreams she has for the future. Hermione is amazing. She’s outstanding, brave, extraordinary, occasionally boring, nerdy, sweet, kind, thoughtful, gutsy, foolhardy, a complete bookworm, and - lucky for us all - quite forgiving.”

Whatever Rita said next was lost in the sound of applause from the patrons of the Three Broomsticks. Narcissa hadn’t realized how many people were present and paying attention to her little rant.

“Rita,” Narcissa said quietly as the shorter woman tried to push her way past, “just sit at the bar with me and have a drink. We don’t have to say a word to each other but it will look like neither of us gave up. Neither of us just walked away.”

“What? Why would I ever sit next to trash like you? I hate you.”

“I know. Because you think I’m trying to ruin your career,” Narcissa answered calmly, ignoring the childish insults thrown at her, however much they may have hurt. “But I’m not. I’m honestly trying to make The Daily Prophet a better paper. I don’t know what the Quick-Quotes Quill has over you but, it’s not worth your journalistic integrity forever, is it? You used to be amazing. Remember your article on the mistreatment of Veela in Croatia? How you were the one who discovered that and shined the light on it? How many did that save?”

“I do remember that,” Rita said, eyes glazing over as she lost herself in thought.

“You didn’t use that poison quill for that story. You used your brain, your cunning, and your skill,” Narcissa shrugged.

“Thank you,” Rita said suspiciously. She watched Narcissa return to her seat at the bar before deciding to sit down for just one drink.

“Have you been assigned a husband, yet, Rita?” Rosmerta asked, ignoring the quarrel that had just taken place.

Rita’s entire body tensed up. She gripped her glass so tightly it looked as if it might shatter in her hand.

“Oh, my, I’ll take that as a yes,” Rosmerta said.

“Rita,” Narcissa interjected, gently placing her hand on Rita’s, “who is it? What’s wrong?”

“I...it’s...I’m being punished. I thought you did it. You and Hermione,” she turned to glare at Narcissa again.

“No! Definitely not! Hermione and I have had no hand in any marriage assignments but our own and that was only to marry one another! What’s going on, to whom are you assigned?”

Rita took a great shuddering breath before answering in a devastated voice, “Vincenzius Crabbe. I’ve been assigned to marry Vincenzius Crabbe.”

Narcissa’s jaw dropped open. She couldn’t answer. “No,” finally came out, in a tortured whisper. 

“Yes,” Rita said, her bottom lip quivering and tears filling her eyes.

“Oh, my. Rosmerta, we’re going to need a little assist here. Can you get Rita the penthouse at Hog’s Head tonight?”

“Absolutely. Consider it done,” Rosmerta gave Narcissa a solid nod.

“It might be two nights,” Narcissa corrected. “Rita, listen. You...I’m so sorry, but I’m going to advise you not to go home until this is sorted. Vincenzius Crabbe is not a man with whom to be trifled. I don’t understand why he has not yet been arrested and I have to assume he’s blackmailing someone on the Wizengamot. If that’s the case, you could be in terrible danger if you marry him.”

Rosmerta leaned over the bar to quietly speak into Narcissa’s ear for a moment. Narcissa nodded and grasped Rosmerta’s hand suddenly.

“Where? She can not come home with me. I can not do that to Hermione. Black Manor has to be a safe space for our lives together and bringing home someone who has caused such heartache will cross a line I’m not willing to cross with my future wife.”

“I don’t know where, Cissy, I only know it has to be soon. Aberforth says he’s been there for a few hours because he knows she’s in Hogsmeade.”

Narcissa stood encouraging Rita to do the same. She led her out the back of the Three Broomsticks, “Rita, listen. Vincenzius has been at the Hog’s Head Inn all afternoon waiting for you. We have to get out of Hogsmeade. Is there anywhere you can stay that’s a secret? Or do you have a friend with whom you can stay that no one would know about?”

Rita, tears spilling over, shook her head. “I’ve no friends. I didn’t think I needed them.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Look at me. I’m such a disaster the only person willing to help me is the woman I’ve just thrown beer at. I should go to the Hog’s Head myself and just tell Vincenzius I’m here. I don’t deserve any better.”

“Stop that. You do. Everyone makes mistakes. Can you just trust me for a moment? I’m going to apparate you pretty far away but you’ll be safe until you choose to come back or until we find you a different spouse. Can we try that?”

Rita nodded.

The two appeared behind a building that Rita had never seen before. “We’re in Scotland. My childhood friend, Elizabeth owns this delightful teahouse with a few rooms to let. We’ll put you here in one of these rooms for a few days and make sure you’re safe from Crabbe before we bring you back, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Elizabeth is deeply empathetic and kind. You’ll love it here, it’s a nice place to relax for a bit. You’ll be safe. I’ll owl you tonight after I talk to Hermione about some ideas for what to do about Crabbe. She’s brilliant, she’ll think of something.”

Rita snorted.

“Don’t doubt Hermione. She and Harry saved my son and his friend’s lives when they had every reason to let them die. She’ll help you. I guarantee it. Now, let’s go in and I’ll introduce you to Elizabeth.”

Less than half an hour later, Narcissa was hugging Elizabeth goodbye and thanking her yet again for allowing Rita to stay.

“Narcissa, you help her, I’ll hide her, no problem. Just do it quietly, my parents tell me you’re planning a wedding at the castle and you don’t want helping this lot to cause any problems.”

“Too right, Elizabeth. My fiancée, Hermione, and I are really excited that Achnagairn was available for a solstice wedding. December the twenty-first seems both so soon and very far away at the same time.”

Laughing, Elizabeth asked what Narcissa meant by that.

“There’s so much to do I can’t imagine we have time to get it all done and that is really stressing my poor Hermione. But then, I look at her, and I just can’t imagine having to wait another three months to be her wife.”

Elizabeth reached out and grasped both of Narcissa’s hands in her own, “oh, Cissy, that was the sweetest thing. I can’t wait to meet your Hermione.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her, either. We’ll have to have you for dinner sometime soon. You can’t wait all the way until the wedding to meet Hermione!”

“That would be delightful!”

Securing the promise of an owl and swearing to keep Rita hidden, Elizabeth waved goodbye to Narcissa as she Apparated back to the Three Broomsticks.

Narcissa, entering through the backdoor, heard raised voices and recognized Vincenzius’ immediately. She paused. Was it foolhardy? Was she making a mistake facing him? Obviously he had some inside help at the Ministry if he had been left free after all the evidence presented, would she be safe?

“I told you, already, she’s not here! You break one more glass, and I’ll get every Auror I know in here so fast your head will spin!”

Rosmerta’s shout was met with raucous laughter.

“I don’t believe you for a second, Rosie,” Vincenzius taunted, “I think Rita and Narcissa are both here and you’re hiding them. And I’m going to find them.”

Narcissa quickly made her way back outside and Disillusioned herself. If Vincenzius and his friends found her in the back they would think Rosmerta was lying. She made her way carefully around the outside of the Three Broomsticks trying to devise a plan. Narcissa was equally grateful and frustrated that Hermione wasn’t with her - grateful that Hermione wasn’t in the situation but frustrated that she didn’t have her logical fiancée to help come up with a plan.

Pushing through the front door, Narcissa decided to act as though she had no idea what was going on, “I’m so sorry I had to step out, Rosmerta. Do you have a few minutes to finish that conversation about scheduling?”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Narcissa Malfoy,” a snide voice said.

Turning, Narcissa glared at the speaker, “Mistress Travers, not yet in Azkaban? Interesting. I haven’t seen you come up on the Decree Registry yet, though. Hmm.”

“It takes a little longer for them to decide pure-blood arrangements.”

“Ah,” Narcissa raised her eyebrows and shrugged, “I’m sure that’s it. Must be a special pure-blood arrangement for you. Why not just marry Crabbe here? He’s unmatched, is he not?”

“I’ve been paired, I’ll have you know!” Vincenzius shouted, firewhisky scented spittle flying out of his mouth.

“Have you now? And who is your bride meant to be?” Narcissa asked, her voice full of barely hidden condescension.

Rosmerta was watching the action like a tennis match, unsure whether to summon an Auror or not.

“I’ll be marrying Rita Skeeter. Then I’ll have a book published about the Dark Lord and his most faithful followers and his most vile traitors. So, watch your back.”

“Vincenzius Crabbe, how dare you marry outside the Sacred Twenty-Eight?”

“What? Rita’s a pure-blood, she said so!”

Narcissa brought her hand up to her throat, aghast, “I daresay she was lying. Rita Skeeter is no pure-blood witch. She’s not even a half-blood! Her parents were both muggles. Skeeter isn’t even her real last name, she changed it years ago and no one knows what it used to be.”

The bar fell shockingly silent. Narcissa sent up a silent apology for the lies she had just so convincingly told and vowed to one day set them to rights.

“I can’t marry a mudblood,” Crabbe spit out.

“Oy,” Rosmerta interrupted, “don’t use that language here!”

“Why not just go to the Ministry and ask them to assign you to Dorothy here? That’s what Hermione and I did. It was no trouble at all. A Travers-Crabbe marriage is a respectable match and keeps with the pure-blood tradition.”

Vincenzius narrowed his eyes and looked hard at Narcissa. He knew she was playing him, he just didn’t know how. He couldn’t deny a marriage to a pure-blood witch now, though, in front of the people in the room. “That’s what you and your little mate did, you say? Perfect, Narcissa, you can show us exactly what to do. Go on, now. Lead the way.”

“Oh, I do apologize but no.”

“Excuse me?” Travers said, “you don’t say no to us.”

Narcissa laughed, “I just did. I’ll not be showing you how to get to the Ministry of Magic nor how to make your way to office handling the Replenishment Decree. My fiancée and I are quite busy these days planning our own wedding. Good luck to you.”

Crabbe, Travers, and the three friends with them headed angrily for the door. “Before you go, you need to pay for the glasses you broke,” Rosmerta demanded.

“Fine,” the smallest of the group stepped toward the bar, “how much do we owe? I’m sorry about the smashed glasses, ma’am.”

“Thank you for apologizing. It was just over three and a half trays of glasses so eleven galleons and four sickles.”

“Right, here are eleven galleons. I’m afraid I haven’t got any sickles.”

“It’s fine, I’ll take the eleven galleons and call it even. Thank you Mister…”

“Oh, uh, Blackwithe, ma’am. Croix Blackwithe. Nice to meet you. I’m really sorry about all this. I’ve just met that crew over at the Hog’s Head and got a little caught up in the excitement,” he blushed, embarrassed to admit that.

“Well, I’m sorry to tell you, it looks like your new friends have moved on without you, Croix Blackwithe. They just Apparated away from out front.”

“S’alright, I think I’ll stay and have another drink after all. Got any gillywater back there?”

Rosmerta smiled a bit and stepped away, “coming right up.” She expertly slid a gillywater down the bar to Croix and stepped back in front of Narcissa. “My goodness that was a lot of excitement for one afternoon!”

“Too right you are. And I’m not at all comfortable about it. I hope I haven’t just made anything worse.”

“I don’t think so, Narcissa. You convinced Crabbe and Travers to walk in the Ministry, I’m sure they’ll be arrested on sight! That was brilliant!”

“But I made myself sound, publicly, like a blood supremacist and I am absolutely not one. If that gets out it just will reflect quite poorly on my relationship with Hermione and I don’t want to hurt her for anything. I really must be going soon, we’re having a few people over for dinner this evening and now I’d like to have some time with Hermione to explain all of this before they show up.”

Rosmerta patted Narcissa’s hand, nodding, “understandable, my friend. First, though, what did you want to schedule when you came in earlier?”

“Oh, Merlin, I nearly forgot! Next Saturday, the nineteenth, is Hermione’s birthday and I’d like to have a small, surprise dinner party for her. I’d really love to do it here, if possible. We so thoroughly enjoyed the party in the courtyard last weekend.”

“I’m sorry, someone’s just booked a wedding in the courtyard for Saturday. I do have the rooftop, though. It’s perfect for a small dinner party. We could easily seat about thirty people up there.”

“I was thinking more like a dozen or so but I’d like it private so, if it’s available, I’d happily book the whole place.”

“Sunset?”

“Hmm,” Narcissa gazed away, lost in thought for a moment. “Can we go up and have a look?”

Rosmerta nodded and waved a waitress over to cover the bar for a few minutes. “Follow me!” She led Narcissa up a staircase near the front door and through an opening onto the rooftop.

It was decorated perfectly.

“Rosie, this is perfect! I adore all the little canopies and fire pots. Will all these little cozy seating arrangements be here?”

“Sure, we can leave the conversation nooks out and set up a dining table for your party in the middle. The sun sets just there,” Rosmerta pointed, “and you can see Hogwarts faintly in the distance.”

“This is absolutely what I was hoping for her birthday. Timing, now, is trickier, I guess, for me. I’d like it planned so dessert is coming out right before sunset. Is that reasonable? Or is that too demanding?”

“That’s reasonable, might I ask why?”

“You might ask but I shan’t tell you. I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait and find out on the nineteenth,” Narcissa, grinning happily from ear to ear, reached out and squeezed both of Rosmerta’s hands in her own. “I’ll owl you an exact number of guests as it gets closer. Remember, it’s a surprise party. Hermione won’t know anyone else is coming so they’ll all arrive before us.”

“Oooh, exciting. I love planning surprises! Thanks for doing this here!”

“And thank you for being so accommodating! Now, I really must be off. Can you bill me at Gringott’s for the party? Whatever the cost, I’ll pay it, no matter. I’ll owl you about dessert. It’ll be a cake but something special. Alright, then?”

“Alright then!”

“Can I Apparate from up here or is it protected like inside the bar?”

“You can go from up here,” Rosmerta assured Narcissa, “see you next weekend!”

“See you!” With that and a shining smile, Narcissa was gone.

Rosmerta made her way back downstairs so pleased life was turning out so pleasantly for Narcissa. After her years with Lucius, she needed someone who brought happiness and excitement back into her heart and Hermione obviously did just that.

Making her way through the Manor, Narcissa sought out Hermione in her study and found the younger woman sitting at her desk, three books open in front of her, hair piled on her head in a messy bun, quill moving quickly across parchment, and ink spotted on her cheek. Narcissa leaned against the doorjamb silently and folded her arms, content to just watch Hermione for a long moment. She basked in the calm, enjoyed the peace of the other woman’s work. When Hermione set the quill down and closed one book to reach for another Narcissa entered the room.

“Darling?” she said quietly.

“Oh!” Hermione startled, dropping her book. “Narcissa, I didn’t realize you were home.”

“Just got in a few minutes ago. I didn’t want to interrupt your thoughts so I waited until you finished writing. We have guests coming in a bit but if we go now we have time for a bath. Would you care to join me?” Narcissa stood next to Hermione, not touching her, knowing the other woman may be able to say know to a verbal question if she wanted but they were both so inflamed by the other physical touch was proving impossible to resist.

“Mmm, I’d love to but no falling asleep this time,” Hermione smiled up from her seat and grasped one of Narcissa’s hands, pressing a kiss to the back of it and then resting her cheek against it. Before rising, Hermione carefully placed bookmarks in the two remaining texts she was using and cleaned up her desk. If she didn’t, it would weigh on her mind. Once she stood, she stepped right in front of Narcissa, “I just need one thing before we go upstairs.”

“And what might that be?” Narcissa asked, her arms wrapping around Hermione’s shoulders.

“A hello kiss from my beautiful fiancée, of course.”

Narcissa obliged, meeting Hermione’s lips for a gentle kiss. Then another. And a third.

“Hmm, perfection,” Narcissa whispered, resting her forehead against Hermione’s. “Let’s go, before we do run out of time.”

“Okay,” Hermione smiled.

As they headed upstairs, still holding hands, Narcissa spoke quietly, “Hermione, may I make an observation?”

“Of course.”

“You seem much more relaxed now than you did earlier. Did something happen?”

“No, well, yes. Kind of? Goodness, me. Let’s try that again,” Hermione laughed at herself. “I think part of my anxiety was stemming from not knowing how my studying was going to work. Would I have enough access to texts? Would I feel comfortable enough? Would I be able to focus enough here in the Manor? Would I be too distracted by just wanting to plan our wedding? But, it turned out, I really am pretty good at just focussing when I need to. Also, your library is amazing and Pepper and Filly were so helpful in finding useful books.”

“Oh, good! I’m so happy you used the library here. I was worried you wouldn’t use it if I wasn’t here to tell you to do so!”

“I almost didn’t,” Hermione said in a small voice. “I had a moment of just sitting on the sofa and talking through it with myself. If you were here and I asked to use the library you would say absolutely so there was no sense in denying myself access to books you would allow me to use.”

“Exactly, my dear,” Narcissa stopped walking in the middle of the stairs and kissed Hermione.

“I think it also helped that you and I talked over some wedding planning this morning so I was able to focus on NEWT classes this afternoon. It all worked out just right.”

Narcissa just smiled and wrapped her arm around Hermione’s shoulders as they walked down the hall. Once in the bedroom, Narcissa summoned Hermione’s robe from the armoire and handed it to her before heading into the bathroom to prepare the tub.

“What is that? Is that rose water?” Hermione asked after she finished changing, a serious expression on her face.

“It is,” Narcissa smiled, “you have a very good nose. Are you familiar with rose water?”

“I’ve, um, smelled it before, is all,” Hermione said, looking at the water.

Narcissa briefly narrowed her eyes at Hermione, knowing there was something there but they didn’t have time at the moment to delve too deeply. She tucked it away in her mind to bring up later for closer inspection. “I’m going to go change, Mione, feel free to settle in,” Narcissa said, cupping Hermione’s cheek for a moment before she walked by.

“Rose water,” Hermione said to herself, smiling faintly.


	26. Coming clean

“You protected Rita Skeeter.”

“Yes,” Narcissa said solemnly.

“You introduced Rita Skeeter to your childhood friend.”

“Yes.”

“This incredibly important childhood friend to whom I have not yet been introduced.”

“Yes.”

“Because, why, again?”

“I happened upon Rita Skeeter in the course of my afternoon appointment. She was having an absolute meltdown. Honestly, I was embarrassed for her. Finally she admitted that she had been assigned to wed Vincenzius Crabbe and she thought you and I had been the ones to make that happen. He is an abusive, nasty, blood supremacist. I was trying to hide her at the Hog’s Head but that’s where he was and, in my panic, the only place I could think of that he would never know about was Elizabeth’s tea house up in Scotland. I’m terribly sorry that I’ve hurt you, darling. I was trying to protect her and I was very concerned the whole time that it might upset you if I helped her. But, truly, I thought you would do it, too. If you were there, you would have helped her, too.”

“I’m...not hurt. I’m jealous. And jealous is an ugly thing to be.”

“I promised Elizabeth we would have her over for dinner soon so she could meet you. She’s going to just love you, Hermione. You have so much in common!”

Hermione couldn’t stay upset, Narcissa’s eyes were dancing with the thought of introducing her to her oldest friend. “I’m really looking forward to that. Invite her over as soon as you want, Cissa, I’ll be here,” Hermione said, wanting to press a kiss to Narcissa’s full lips. 

“Thank you,” Narcissa whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

“Don’t cry; why are you thanking me?”

“For not staying mad.”

“Narcissa, I shouldn’t have been mad in the first place. It was just jealousy. You’re completely right, I would’ve helped her if I were there. Anything else we should discuss while we’re in the tub and I can’t kiss you?”

“I lied to Vincenzius Crabbe today, made myself sound like a pure-blood supremacist, and I’m a little bit terrified that he’s going to find out and come after one or both of us?”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Um. What?”

“I was trying to convince him he shouldn’t marry Rita and that he should marry a pure-blood instead because I wanted him to go to the Ministry to request a change but, in order to convince him, I had to make up a history for Rita.”

“Oh, my Cissa. That’s not nearly as bad as you made it sound,” Hermione squeezed the hand she was holding under the water. “What did you tell him about her?”

“He thought she was a pure-blood. I told him she was the child of two muggle parents and she changed her name.”

“What did he say to that?” Hermione had a guess for what word he used…

“He called her a name that I shall choose not to repeat. Which reminds me, that we still need to go up to Edinburgh and see that healer for your scar, darling.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Precision of language,” Narcissa teased.

“Does it bother you that your fiancée is a mudblood whose very skin bears the mark of being such?” Hermione’s eyes were pinched shut, her body tense.

“It bothers me that there are people in the world who think that it matters for the wrong reasons. Look at me, darling, please,” Narcissa waited for Hermione’s brown eyes to open up and connect with her own. “It matters what your background was and where you came from.”

Hermione let go of Narcissa’s hand, Narcissa did not release.

“Listen to everything before you pull away from me, lion. It does matter. It matters because it’s part of what made you who you are. Your parents being muggle dentists and you having no introduction into this world until you were eleven matter. We all need to honor and understand our differences. Not hold them against one another. Not pretend they don’t exist. But appreciate them for the different perspective they can bring to every situation. So, does it bother me that your parents are muggles? No, of course, not. Does it bother me that your skin bears the mark of a slur against you for that? Yes. That bothers me very much. The torture, the fact that I couldn’t - or didn’t - stop it, and that it’s still there? That all bothers me, darling. So much.”

“And yet again, we’re naked in a bathtub and all I want is to kiss and hold you,” Hermione said quietly.

“Bath first. Then we get dressed. Then kissing. Holding will have to come after dinner,” Narcissa laughed a little. 

Hermione smirked, “if you insist.”

“Mmhmm, I do insist on holding you later,” Narcissa murmured, her eyes closed for a few moments as she simply rested, gently squeezing the hand held in her own.

“Are we dressing for dinner?” Hermione asked, standing barefoot in the middle of Narcissa’s bedroom. Her hair was still piled atop her head having stayed mostly dry in the bathtub but a shiver ran down her spine in the cool room.

“Well, I would certainly advise against dining in that robe at this stage in our betrothal,” Narcissa said, biting back a grin.

Hermione didn’t respond, instead crossing her arms and glaring playfully at the other woman.

Laughing, Narcissa apologized. “Honestly, darling, I hadn’t really decided what to wear yet. What do you think?”

“Ugh,” Hermione flopped backwards onto the bed. “If only Harry and Andy were coming I’d just put on whatever but Miss Hopkirk? I haven't a clue! Haven’t you spent time with her? What’s she likely to wear?”

“Hermione. Really?”

Lifting just her head and looking at Narcissa across the room, Hermione had a blank expression on her face seeing Narcissa standing poised with her hands on her hips and her back ramrod straight.

“Me? The ex-wife of one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted and faithful servants? The ex-wife of a man who willingly allowed me to be held captive in my own house for I don’t even know how long? You think I may have spent time with Mafalda Hopkirk, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in any kind of social setting? Where? The dungeons of Malfoy Manor?”

Narcissa was met with silence for a long, tense moment.

“Um, Narcissa?” Hermione spoke in a small voice. “I didn’t really mean it that way. I thought maybe you saw her this summer or last spring when you were going to the Ministry.”

Dropping her head and slumping her shoulders, Narcissa took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I should’ve known better. I don't know why I got so defensive.”

“Hey,” Hermione whispered from right behind Narcissa, “it’s okay. Are you maybe feeling a little nervous about her coming over?” Hermione slid her hands around Narcissa’s waist, pressing her torso against her fiancée’s back.

“Maybe,” Narcissa answered, “but I still shouldn’t have spoken to you so sharply and I do apologize.”

“It’s all right, Cissa,” Hermione pressed a kiss to the robe-covered shoulder in front of her. “I’m going to wear slacks and a blouse. Nice enough but not exactly dress robes. What do you think?” Hermione stepped away with a pat to Narcissa’s hip.

Smiling, Narcissa agreed that it sounded like a good plan. “I do think I’ll do the same. Is that too much? If we match like that?”

“Nope,” Hermione grinned, “it’s just right.”

As Narcissa slid hangers around in her armoire choosing the right slacks, she heard Hermione getting dressed behind the screen. “I’ve just put on fresh robes and I’m going to pop home through the Floo to get dressed for dinner. Be back in a flash,” Hermione said head to the door.

“Wait!” Narcissa caught Hermione’s hand just before she got there. “I...I mean...yes. Sorry. Sure, sorry,” Narcissa shook her head briefly and released Hermione’s hand.

“What is it?”

“It’s silly,” Narcissa shrugged, turning away.

“Tell me. Please,” it was Hermione then who reached out to grasp Narcissa’s hand.

“I just didn’t want you to go. Silly of me, I know. You’ll be back for dinner in a bit. I don’t know what just came over me,” Narcissa’s cheeks were a delicate shade of pink.

Hermione pulled Narcissa’s body tightly against her own, “I can’t describe what it does to my heart when you say things like that, Cissa. Thank you for telling me. I know you were uncomfortable sharing that but it means so much to me that you did.”

“Go, my darling. Go home and get dressed. I’ll meet you in the sitting room when you Floo back. Thank you for this,” Narcissa pressed a kiss to Hermione’s lips. Then a second one just for good measure.

“I’ll be so fast,” she smiled up at Narcissa.

Twenty minutes later found Narcissa stepping into the sitting room, dressed flawlessly, hair half-up looking perfect, and make-up impeccable. “Mistress Black,” Pepper squeaked, “Pepper can get you a drink?”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Narcissa smiled kindly at the little elf, “I was actually wondering if you could help me with something?”

“Yes, Mistress Black, Pepper can help with anything!”

“There’s a, well, I’m not quite sure what to call it, but it has various bottles of alcohol in it and mixers and glasses? A bar cart? Kind of a moveable liquor cabinet?”

“Hmm, and Mistress wants Pepper to know where it is?”

“I was actually wondering if you could use your elf magic to bring it in here? I would love to mix some drinks for our guests using those bottles but it would be so much easier if it were in the sitting room, say, over by the window?”

Pepper’s eyes widened comically, “Oh, yes, Mistress Black. Pepper will do it right away!”

True to her word, the house elf disappeared and came back only a few minutes later with her hand resting on a beautifully carved wooden bar. It was the perfect size to fit in front of the sitting room window.

“Thank you, Pep! That’s exactly what I wanted!”

“Can Pepper mix Mistress Black a drink?” the elf asked, clearly hoping to be told yes.

Narcissa walked over to where Pepper was standing and knelt before her, “you know, Pepper, you can call me Narcissa, if you want to? You don’t have to say Mistress Black all the time. You know that, right?” Narcissa carefully reached out and held one of Pepper’s tiny hands in her own. “We live in this house together, Pepper, we’re practically family.”

Tears filled Pepper’s big eyes, “that makes Pepper feel so happy, Narcissa.” She squeezed the fingers she could grasp.

“Good, I’m so glad that’s settled. Now, as for drinks, dear, I’m not sure you know how to make the drink I was going to have!”

“What? Pepper is a House Elf, Narcissa! Pepper can make every drinks!”

“A Cosmopolitan?”

Pepper squinted and looked away, “Narcissa just made that up!”

“No! It’s a drink! Let me show you. It’s very popular across the pond in the States.”

Narcissa went about showing Pepper how to combine the vodka, triple sec, cranberry and lime juice and orange bitters to make a beautiful drink and serve it in a fashionable glass. So focused were the witch and elf that they didn’t notice the other presence in the room until she finally spoke.

“Are you corrupting that innocent House Elf, Narcissa Black?”

Narcissa jumped so terribly she nearly spilled the pink beverage down the front of her off-white blouse. “Oh, Merlin, you startled me!”

“Narcissa does not corrupt Pepper! Narcissa is teaching Pepper to make Cosmopolitans. It’s a muggle drink from the pond!”

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Narcissa, trying desperately not to giggle.

“Yes, Pepper, it’s a muggle drink from across the pond. Cosmopolitans are quite popular in the States. We’ve made you one as well, Mione,” Narcissa offered, a slight pout on her fair face.

“Well, as long as you’re sharing,” Hermione joked.

“We were practicing so we could make some fun drinks for our guests tonight. Cosmos and martinis and gin and tonics.”

Hermione sipped the drink Narcissa had handed her, it was sour and tart with a sweet finish. “Hmm,” she nodded, “thank you for sharing. I’ll stick with this one.”

“Is it too strong?” Narcissa asked. “Let me try it,” she reached for the glass in Hermione’s hand, sipping from nearly the spot Hermione had used. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I...just...sometimes,” Hermione took a deep breath trying to find the right words to explain what she was feeling, “sometimes I just know so deeply that I’m going to completely enjoy being married to you.”

Narcissa closed her eyes to contain the tears suddenly filling them. “I know exactly what you mean. Pepper, I think we’re good. Hermione and I are just going to spend a little time together before our guests come.”

“Pepper is practicing the drinks. And this one. It was on the bar. A mojito?”

“Okay, just don’t drink them, Pep. Muggle alcohol is very strong.”

“Pepper will not drink, just mix until the drinks are perfect.”

Narcissa and Hermione watched Pepper for a moment, though it had started unintentionally, the little elf was intently focused on her new task of learning to mix muggle cocktails. Narcissa stepped away and opened a lower cabinet near the fireplace.

“What’s that?” Hermione asked.

“My phonograph. I’m hoping to convince this lovely lady to dance with me while we await our guests,” Narcissa answered quietly as she very carefully placed the needle on the record that was already on the turntable.

The quiet strains of a string ensemble slowly built to fill the room before Etta James’ voice rang out with the opening lyrics of her most iconic hit.

Hermione looked at Narcissa in wonder as she placed her hand in Narcissa’s, “I love this song.”

“So do I,” Narcissa smiled back, “dance with me?”

“Of course,” Hermione agreed, sliding her right arm around Narcissa’s shoulder to rest her hand on the back of Narcissa’s neck, her left hand clasped in Narcissa’s right. Hermione quietly hummed along to the lyrics, “my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you. I found a dream that I could speak to, a dream that I can call my own. I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never known. Oh, yeah, you smiled, you smiled, oh, and then the spell was cast. And here we are in heaven, for you are mine, at last.”

At Last faded into the next song and the pair danced on, content to be in one another’s arms. Stormy Weather came on then and Hermione sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Hermione leaned back and smiled up at Narcissa, “I really enjoy this music. Etta James is one of my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” Narcissa smiled, incredulous at the random things they had in common. She took the lead once more and carefully moved them around the room so that as Stormy Weather ended she could move the needle to where she wanted it.

The room was once again filled with the opening chords of Etta’s At Last and the couple danced on, heedless of the visitors who had just been let into the Manor by Pepper.

As the song ended again, one of the visitors spoke up. “Are they really always like this?”

Sighing, Harry answered, “Yes. Always.”

Narcissa, opening her eyes to look at Hermione was startled by the three people standing in the doorway. “Darling,” she said quietly, “our visitors have arrived.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“I do apologize, we didn’t hear you arrive,” Narcissa said to their guests, releasing the hand that had been holding Hermione’s though she kept her left arm wrapped around Hermione’s waist.

“Please come in,” Hermione said, “I’ll turn the music down.” 

“Pepper has been mixing some delicious drinks. Would anyone care for a cocktail?”

Pepper nodded enthusiastically, “Pepper has Cosmopolitans, Mojitos, ginsandtonics, and what was the last name, Mistress Black?”

“The last one was a martini. Pep, thank you for being so thoughtful but you may call me Narcissa even in front of guests.”

“Okay! Pepper will call you Narcissa! Does Narcissa want a Cosmopolitan?”

“I’m not sure yet, Pep. What would everyone like?” She looked around at their guests. Hermione was smiling up at her, with a delightful grin on her face. Narcissa knew the look. It meant Hermione wanted to kiss her...very much. Andy, too, was grinning at her but in a way that said she wanted to tease her. Harry looked like he was unsurprised but Mafalda Hopkirk looked as though she had perhaps landed on the moon.

“Miss Hopkirk? Would you like a cocktail?” Narcissa offered.

“Yes, a gin and tonic. Heavy on the gin,” she nodded to herself, looking around. “This is a bit surreal.”

“Is it really?” Hermione asked, her defensive tendencies coming out strong. “You were witness to most of Narcissa’s depositions, were you not? You know what she went through? You were invited to a friendly dinner in her home. Did you expect her to be a monster?”

“Oh, no, Miss Granger, I just,” Miss Hopkirk shook her head, looking away. “I just...you know. Yes. Yes, I did expect her to be a monster. Sorry. Truth be told, Bellatrix Black Lestrange was a nightmare and I really wasn’t sure about you, Mistress Black. You were married to Lucius Malfoy.”

“Yes, and through my testimony, taken under the influence of vertiserum and legilimency you know all the lurid, embarrassing, debasing details of that marriage. You know it was arranged when I was a child. You know I was forced into motherhood at a young age, though I would never trade my son for anything and I am grateful to have him every single day. You know I spent the better part of two years a prisoner of Malfoy Manor. But because I didn’t have the urgency or facility to dissolve my marriage sooner I am unworthy of civil society now?”

Hermione had to literally bite her tongue not to jump into the conversation and assure Narcissa that she was in fact worthy of everything in the world. Worthy of civility and kindness and caring.

“I apologize, Mistress Black. I spent many years thinking you were married to a man with whom you agreed. I thought you were following a cause in which you believed. I am happy to know that’s not the case. I’m sorry for my reticence. Especially as I’ve already publicly supported you, it was rather rude of me.”

“Thank you. Apology accepted,” Narcissa turned to Pepper to reach for Mafalda’s drink only to find Pepper glaring at the other woman. “Pep? Miss Hopkirk would like a gin and tonic, please.”

“Miss Hopkirk should ask nicely.” Pepper crossed her arms and tapped her little foot. “The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Pepper glanced quickly at Hermione, “and it’s betrothed, use proper manners in this residence.”

Harry snorted, “Pepper, my friend, you are just like your brother! You’re the best! It’s great how you’re defending our Narcissa, little mate.” He winked at the house elf in encouragement but it served the purpose of breaking the tension.

“I’m terribly sorry for my lapse in manners, Pepper. May I please have a gin and tonic?”

Pepper didn’t answer right away, instead looking at Narcissa for permission, it was, of course, given with a simple nod of her head.

“Yes, Miss Hopkirk,” Pepper agreed, “do any other guests want a ginsandtonics?”

Everyone else passed on the simple drink.

“So, you two are really a match, huh?” Mafalda tried to lighten the conversation stepping toward the sitting area with her beverage.

“We are,” the couple said in unison, looking at one another.

“It surprised most people,” Hermione acknowledged, “perhaps no one moreso than ourselves. A year ago if you had told me where I’d be standing and around whom my arm would be right now I would’ve carted you off to St. Mungo’s myself but...now that I’m here, with Narcissa, about to marry her, I can’t imagine anything else.” 

“Exactly,” Narcissa agreed, simply, as she and Hermione sat on a small love seat together.

“I mean, how lucky can I be? I get to marry my best friend? One of my best friends, I should say. Of course, Harry is one of my best friends, as well.”

“I’m okay with Narcissa being your best friend, Mione. I’m your brother,” Harry assured her.

“You are, Harry, that’s true,” Hermione acquiesced.

Narcissa swallowed audibly and asked Andy what she wanted to drink.

Caught off guard by the non-sequiter, Andy stuttered for a moment before answering, “I, uh, I think I want to try a mojito?”

“Oh! Me, too,” Narcissa smiled, carefully extracting herself from Hermione and heading back to Pepper.

Pleasant chatter continued from the three who were seated so Andromeda took the opportunity to quietly question her baby sister about the sudden mood dampening.

“I can’t explain it,” Narcissa shrugged.

“Try, Cissy. Hermione called you her best friend and your face immediately froze. You are worthy of her and her friendship. You saved a great many lives.”

“It’s not...quite...that. I, eh, I’m struggling a little. That is to say...hmm.” Narcissa stopped speaking and shook her head before taking a deep breath, “I apologize. I mean to say, I must remember that we are in this for a cause. We are working to spark a revolution. We may have agreed to move forward as if that weren’t the catalyst but, truly, it is. I should be grateful to at least be considered a friend to my spouse this time around.” Narcissa blinked rapidly and wiped an errant tear from her cheek.

“I think you’re considered much more than that, sister,” Andromeda said as she observed Hermione watching them carefully from across the room. “She looks ready to murder me for upsetting you.”

“She’s protective of all her friends, that’s one of the best parts of her,” Narcissa explained. She closed her eyes trying to force her emotions to stop as she heard Hermione walking over.

“Everything okay over here?” Hermione asked, gently running her hand up and down Narcissa’s spine.

“Mmhmm, we’re fine,” Andy answered.

“Narcissa?” Hermione stepped closer so she could see Narcissa’s face. “Are you okay, darling? Can I help with something?”

“Just a little sisterly chat, Mione. I’m fine,” Narcissa forced a smile.

Searching Narcissa’s eyes for honesty, Hermione simply nodded her head once and answered, “I don’t think that’s entirely accurate but, since we have guests, I’m going to let it slide. If whatever is going on is still bothering you later, can we talk about it after they leave?”

“I’m really fine, dear,” Narcissa pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s lips before stepping away and gesturing to the sitting area.

“So, you’re just going to ignore the Decree?”

“I am,” Harry answered Mafalda, seeming quite unconcerned.

“And you aren’t worried about the repercussions,” she continued to press.

“Are they going to put me, Harry Potter, in Azkaban? For not marrying some random woman while my girlfriend finishes her last year of school?”

“Ah, you’re famous, you can do whatever you want,” Mafalda said snidely.

“I’m using my fame to my advantage and to show others that they, also, can just choose not to have their future determined by a random twenty-two year old in the Ministry basement. Who are you marrying Miss Hopkirk?”

“I’m a Ministry employee, they wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t they?” Narcissa chimed in. “I heard through the grapevine today that they’re trying to match Kingsley Shacklebolt with someone. If the Minister can be married off, anyone can.”

“They’re really going to make us do this, aren’t they,” Mafalda whispered.

“In fact,” Hermione spoke quietly back, “that’s why we invited you over. We don’t think the Ministry should be running roughshod over our lives this way. They assigned Narcissa and I to wed other people. Not just any other people but they specifically assigned Narcissa to re-wed Lucius. Her tormentor, her captor. That’s what the Wizaengamot thought of her heroics in the war.”

“But. You just dissolved that marriage. And they were putting you…”

“Yes. Right back in harm’s way. So, Miss Hopkirk, if you haven’t selected your own spouse yet, what are you going to do? Marry who they say, find your own partner, or avoid the institution all together?”

“I’m not planning to get married in the next year. If, by some lucky happenstance, I met the right witch or wizard, I would consider getting married again but...I can’t see myself settling down with some bloke I don’t know because the Wizengamot’s decided we look good together on paper. I guess I’ll be avoiding the institution all together. Like Harry.”

“Understandable,” Andy nodded along.

“But what about you two? You’re giving in and getting married. And so soon after getting together!”

Hermione smiled a small grin and rested her hand on Narcissa’s leg, “I know it seems that way but...it’s different for us. We want to marry each other. I can’t wait to marry Narcissa. This isn’t such an imposition for us, just kind of rushing things a bit. We are going to run into trouble with the baby-making-factory part of the Decree.”

“Well,” Narcissa leaned into Hermione with a devlish smirk on her face, “to be clear, as my Hermione likes to say, it’s not the baby-making part that’s going to be trouble.”

“Narcissa!” Hermione laughed in shock, looking quite scandalized.

“It’s just that we don’t want to actually produce any children just yet,” Narcissa finished, enjoying Hermione’s flaming red cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently working super hard to get updates coming on this! Hope you like the start!!


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